


Fallen Angel

by exilefromlife



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Guardian Angels, M/M, Slow Burn, World War II, angel!bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exilefromlife/pseuds/exilefromlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve always managed to get himself into trouble, but never hoped to get a guardian angel because his father was a warlock. All Bucky cares about is keeping his new ward safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complicated story that I can't really begin to summarize. I just hope everyone enjoys it!
> 
>  
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](http://findyouranchorpoint.tumblr.com/)

People had always spoken about guardian angels to Steve’s mother as if he couldn’t hear them. They always said he’d be better if he had one of his own, but everyone knew no one would come for the son of a warlock. Too much devil in warlocks or some such reason. It made the little blond so angry to hear them say things like that to his mother, because he knew that tone when they said it was scorn. It wasn’t the same kind of scorn that he received when he’d done something bad and his mother scolded him, but it was still scorn.

“Don’t worry what they say, my darling. Your father was good to me, God rest his soul.” Sarah would sigh dreamily, remembering her late husband. “He was a warlock, but that was why he was at war. All warlocks have to go.”

Steve didn’t mind ignoring the people who spoke badly of his father if it meant his mother would tell him stories from when she’d first met him. He was older now, though, and if that meant those stories were saved for when he was sick, so be it.

The blond boy sat on the fire escape on a warm July afternoon, waiting for his mother to come home from the hospital and occupying his time by people watching. There were some that walked closely together, skin flashing from a normal human color to a greenish brown. Gremlins from the steel mills who had a talent for anything involving iron. Others brushed hair over their pointed ears and made it a point to avoid people; these were faeries, their magic tied into the world around them. They took care of the parks, and Steve knew many of them from his time playing in said parks.

Some, though, walked behind other species—gremlins, humans, pixies, it didn’t matter—with their golden wings tucked neatly behind them. Steve didn’t know why he was able to see their wings when so many others couldn’t unless they were bonded to one, but he never cared. They were highlights in an otherwise grayish mass of people and buildings. They were guardian angels and they were _magnificent_.

The blond sighed happily when he saw a pixie walking hand-in-hand with her angel, laughing as he lifted her over a small crack. The angel, golden feathers fluttering in the breeze, smirked when the pixie smacked him on the shoulder playfully. Steve wished he could earn one of his own, someone who could protect him from the small things that could hurt him.

It wasn’t meant to be. Not for someone with warlock blood. Steve pouted at that line of thought, but it was soon forgotten when he heard the door to the apartment open and close, signaling his mother’s arrival.

+

When Steve turned ten, he came down with a nasty bout of the flu and wound up in the hospital while fireworks went off in the distance. A Virtue, one of the healing angels, was making him as comfortable as possible before leaving on her rounds. Steve shifted on the bed, careful not to dislodge the tubes attached to him, and jumped when a rough voice spoke.

“You look like shit.”

“Bein’ sick does that to a fella.” The blond looked over at the kid the voice was attached to. He was standing in the doorway the light behind him cleverly hiding his features in shadow. “Whatcha doin’ in here?”

The kid shrugged. “You Steve?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Fiesty.” The kid chuckled. “Now I see why they put me here. I’m James, but my family calls me Bucky.”

Steve raised his eyebrows as Bucky stepped forward, golden, _glorious_ wings catching the light. “Y-you’re an angel!!”

Bucky plopped down in the seat next to Steve’s bed, propping his feet on the mattress. “They didn’t say you were smart. I only said ‘they put me here’ and here ya are, putting two and two together and getting four.” His wings adjusted to the chair back, stretching out as far as they could without hitting any equipment.

The blond shook his head. “Your wings.”

It was the brunet’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You can see them? Without a bond?”

“Yep.”

“Huh. Well, that’ll take away the fun of you wakin’ up one morning and seein’ them. I was looking forward to your face when that happened!” Bucky grinned.

Steve’s eyebrows came together moment before a coughing fit hit. Wet, hard coughs shook his body as Bucky stood quickly and rubbed his back. When the fit subsided, the blond wiped his eyes and accepted the water the brunet gave him. “Thank—“ He coughed once more before drinking a little more water. “Thank you.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s my job.”

“Your job? Wait, bond, job…you’re _mine_?!” Steve’s voice rose to a squeak.

The angel brushed a loose feather off a wing and nodded. “Sure am! It’s more that you’re mine though.” He bent and grabbed the shed feather off the ground and handed it to Steve. “Happy birthday.”

“A feather?” He looked at the gift and stroked it. “It’s soft!”

Bucky checked the machines with a critical eye and grunted an affirmative. “For you, yes. For anyone that tries to hurt you, the shaft and barbs can hurt.”

“The what and what?” Steve was still stroking the feather as his angel turned to face him.

“This is the shaft, these are the barbs.” The angel pointed to the spine of the feather, then to the parts coming off of the shaft. “These are called barbules.” He pointed to the soft parts coming off the barbs.

“Odd.” Steve giggled. “Barbules.”

“Shut it, I know it sounds funny.” The feathers still attached to his wings fluffed.

The giggles stopped. “Didn’t mean ta make fun of them.” Bucky huffed, but the feathers settled down. “Can I touch?”

“Mm.” The brunet’s wing curved around his body towards Steve. “Don’t pull though, it hurts.”

Steve reached towards the wing, but quick footsteps stopped inside his door, and a stern voice made him freeze.

“Young man, you should be _asleep_!”

Bucky whirled, extending his wings as fully as he could, pushing some of the machines out of the way as he attempted to protect the blond. He had dropped into a fighting stance, growling a warning.

The woman in the doorway glanced over at the machines then back to the brunet. “Oh, hush. Steven Grant Rogers, why aren’t you sleeping? Do I have to remove your friend?!”

“No, Ma.” Steve ducked his head and shrugged. “Ma, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Ma.”

“Sarah.” Bucky lowered his wings and stood up straight.

“James, dear, respect your elders.” Sarah admonished.

“’M older than I look.” Bucky muttered so only Steve could hear.

His mother continued. “I met him earlier. He was kind enough to introduce himself and give me an explanation.” Her stern expression relaxed into a small smile. “It’s honestly a relief. He can’t stop you from getting sick, but he can help you get better.” Her frown reappeared. “But only if you _get some rest_!”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve obediently scooted down his bed to settle for sleep. Sarah walked around Bucky and gave her son a kiss. “Sleep well, angel.” She turned to Bucky and arched an eyebrow, which made Bucky shrink slightly. “You let him out of your sight for one second, I will find a way to find and pluck each and every one of your feathers. Am I clear?”

The angel’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Yes ma’am!” After Sarah walked out of the room, he let out a breath and turned to Steve. “I see why you’re feisty!”

The blond grinned. “Mmhmm! You really gonna stay?

“I’m not dumb enough to risk that woman’s wrath.” Bucky sat down in the chair and shifted until he was comfortable.

Steve closed his eyes, and it was silent for a few minutes before he spoke. “You’re older than you look?”

“By a few hundred years. You’re only my third ward though…takes a while to train us.” Bucky drew his wings forward and stretched them out in front of him before letting them go limp.

“Do they ever get sore?” Steve asked, watching the movement. “From holding them up all day?”

“Mostly I keep them tight against my back, so no. They get stiff if I don’t stretch them, but not sore.” The angel fixed his gaze on Steve. “Sleep. You have me all your life, questions can wait.”

Steve closed his eyes and dreamt of golden wings.

+

Bucky snarled at his ward, feathers fluffed despite being caked with dirt. He tightened his grip on the blond in his arms when Steve shifted. “One day, you will learn! Apparently, today is not that day!”

“He was beatin’ on Sammy. Sammy’s smaller than me!” Steve’s voice was petulant, holding his busted arm carefully across his chest.

His guardian angel glared down at him. “That boy was twice your size, both vertically and horizontally! If you had waited _ten more seconds_ , I could have gotten both you _and_ Sammy out of there, but nooooo, you just _have_ to run in, fists flying, without wondering if you might get yourself killed!”

“Yer mad.” Steve at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“Damned straight I’m mad!” He growled at a passerby that bumped into them. “You have a broken arm, a black eye, and who knows what else! I’m supposed to be taking care of you, and you’re making it extremely difficult! Four years I’ve been your guardian angel, and for four years you’ve been rushing off without a word to me or without waiting another few moments for me to catch up to you! _Could you walk any slower?! Move_!” The woman walking in front of them scurried out of the way.

“’M sorry.” Steve said quietly. “Can’t you just fly us to the hospital?”

“Yes, but I can’t unfurl my wings yet!” Bucky was so furious he was shaking. When they finally made it through the crowd of pedestrians, he extended his wings to their full span and took off neatly. He didn’t even care that the people below were pointing at him, able to see his wings now that he was airborne. Another angel crossed their path, neatly avoiding them and shaking his head at the two of them.

The touchdown at the hospital doors was less neat, with Bucky having to furl his wings a few seconds before hitting the ground to avoid the heads of an older couple. Fortunately, he didn’t jar Steve too badly. Unfortunately, Sarah was the nurse on duty that morning and rushed out from behind the desk to assess the situation.

“What happened?” She signaled her fellow nurse, who brought a gurney over for her son.

Bucky glared at Steve. “The usual, ma’am.”

“Steven!” Her voice was low and her son looked away as he was wheeled back to see the doctor. Sarah turned back to Bucky and grabbed his arm, directing him to a chair. “Are you alright?”

He all but fell into the chair, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. “I understand he’s a kid, but he’s _insane_! Today was that Henry kid beating up Sam from a couple doors down, and Steve must have a sense for that sort of thing, because he took off running and it wasn’t a minute before I caught up and he was already beat up.” His voice broke and he shuddered.

Sarah rubbed his shoulder. “You’re a kid too, James. You can’t blame yourself for some of the things my son does. He’s a headstrong boy.”

Bucky lifted his head and looked at the woman who had happily embraced his role in her son’s life, even if he wasn’t always successful at his job. “He’ll be alright, I think. Didn’t look too bad.”

“He’s small but tough. Now, why don’t you go in there? They all know what you are.” Sarah gave him a gentle push and walked back to her post, making a “shoo” gesture with her hand.

+

“It’s not fair when you use your wings against me.” Steve was dangling by his suspenders a few feet off the ground, his angel’s grip tight and secure. “I wasn’t doin’ anything!”

“You were thinking of doin’ something!” Bucky slowly flapped his wings to keep them stable. “Listen, with your ma sick, and me workin’ to help out, you’ve gotta keep outta trouble! Mr. Louis needs his best worker comin’ in at least _once_ without being beat up!"

Steve went limp in Bucky’s grip, sighing deeply. “I _was_ headin’ to work!”

The brunet glared at the teen and grumbled to himself as he lowered the blond to the ground. He carefully landed and shook out his wings before furling them. Steve caught a feather and stroked it as he always did. “Fine. Straight there, straight home, promise?”

“I promise.” His ward chuckled and the angel braced himself. “Barbules.”

“ _Go!_ ” He watched Steve until he rounded the corner at the end of the block and then set off on his own way. He was lucky— _damned_ lucky—that his boss at the docks knew what he was and allowed him to work past normal hours to make up for being late or leaving in the middle of a shift. It helped that his powerful wings gave him the ability to work in places that would be impossible for the other workers. There was a particularly talented sprite that worked with him in those locations, but he needed a ride up to the site and back down again. Bucky was necessary, which was great.

He would be happy once Sarah was well again. She had been sick for a few days, a simple cold she caught from a kid she was taking care of, and was already starting to get better. He and Steve were able to make ends meet, barely, but with all three of them working, it would be a lot easier for them. Damned Depression.

“Bucky!” A lilting tone called from across the street. Bucky looked up and realized he was already at the docks. He shook his head and smiled to himself as he crossed the street.

“Hello! Lemme go tell the boss I made it, then I’ll help you fellas do some real work!”

Leonard, the tallest of the group, grinned. “Rough morning?”

“My ward. _Again._ ” He sighed before running over to where his boss was.

+

Bucky was working on unloading a particularly heavy shipment a few months later when a sharp pain shot up his spine, causing his wings to spasm and fail him. The sprite he was working by caught him before he dropped more than a foot and pulled him up to a stable spot. The brunet curled into a ball, shivering as the pain washed over him and eventually settled into a warm comfort at the base of his neck. Once he was able to move again, he sat up and thanked his coworker before taking off towards where he thought Steve might be. He’d make his excuses later.

Steve was sitting on the fire escape when Bucky ran through the apartment to check his ward for injuries. The blond smiled and patted the metal next to him.

“What happened?” Bucky asked as he sat. The sight of his unscathed ward calmed him down immediately.

“I could feel you flying the whole way from the docks.” The blond was staring straight ahead, soft smile easy on his face.

Bucky could have smacked himself. He hadn’t even thought about the pain being a forming bond, despite having experience with previous ward bonds. “Locked up my wings. Gerald caught me.”

The blond’s head whipped over and he was checking the angel for injuries, hands gentle on his wings. “Are you okay?”

The angel nodded. “I’m alright. Thought you got hurt or somethin’. You should draw something for Gerry, though. He prevented a nasty drop, and he likes your sketches. How was work?”

“Mr. Louis is sick, so we closed early, but he gave me some stuff to make ma some soup. He wanted to know how you were, and he wanted to tell you that you need to stop leaving your down on my apron.” Steve shot a glare at the brunet.

Bucky chuckled and curled a wing around Steve’s shoulder. The owner of the local market was a faerie whose angel was on good terms with the brunet and Steve. “Tell him Amelia molts worse than I do.”

The blond laughed, smoothing out the feathers on the underside of Bucky’s wing. The contact felt much different with the ward bond humming between them, like static electricity, and the angel had to take a moment to process if it was good or bad. Turned out it was neither, just something there, and he relaxed into the metal.

“Will your boss be mad?”

“The foreman doesn’t give a hoot. He needs me and Gerald to speed up the process, so I’m okay. I’ll put it extra hours tomorrow.”

They were quiet for a while after that, listening to the sounds of Brooklyn around them. There was something going on downstairs with that skinwalker and his best gal, and Bucky smirked. It was probably something to do with the poker night both he and Steve planned on attending. That fight quieted and the city was perfect. Sirens wailed in the distance, almost too far away to pick up, a particularly upset car backfired its way down the street, and a couple of naiads waved up to the two of them as they made their way back home to the river.

Steve nudged the brunet, and Bucky grunted in acknowledgement. “I love you like you’re my brother, ya know?”

The angel chuckled and ruffled the blond’s hair with his wingtip. “I know, punk.”

“Jerk.” Steve smoothed his hair back down, only to glare at his angel when his hair was mussed again. The glare disappeared when he was handed a molted flight feather.

“Happy twentieth birthday, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things need to be clarified now, even though I will be addressing them in the future:
> 
> 1\. Warlocks use dark magic to do spells, so people think they're "evil", hence the stigma against them. 
> 
> 2\. Bucky is 321 years old by the end of this chapter. Basically, take the age he is from the films and add 300 years.
> 
> 3\. This is chapter is set in the 30s, and I apologize for any language issues. Bucky speaks like a proper gentleman because it's what he's used to. Towards the end, he's started to get the Brooklyn accent.
> 
> 4\. There's this kinda unclear thing where if an angel isn't flying, their wings aren't visible. This isn't a secrecy thing, because no one cares, but more of a "those are blinding in the sunlight" thing. Angels are considerate with their wings.
> 
> 5\. Steve is not human. It'll be addressed during the scenes with Erskine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news complicates things and brings back bad memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I really appreciate reviews, so thank you if you've left one. To everyone who has left kudos, thank you as well!
> 
> Big, big thank yous go out to [stevenbvcky](http://stevenbvcky.tumblr.com/) and [rigormortisboy](http://rigormortisboy.tumblr.com/) for just being awesome people and posting stuff that gives me inspiration.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr!](http://findyouranchorpoint.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Liam's sweater](http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/NzAwWDQ4NQ==/z/BVQAAOSwiCRUhoIT/%24_57.JPG?set_id=880000500F)  
> [The meal they made](https://eathealthysavemoney.files.wordpress.com/2012/09/029.jpg)  
> [The Barnes crest](http://www.thetreemaker.com/coats/Barnes-England.jpg)

Bucky scowled at the paper, unhappy with the news of Germany invading Poland. Other men and women were around the newsstand with similar scowls on their faces, and Bucky paid for the paper before removing himself from the crowd. Angels didn’t do well in groups of angry people. He greeted one of the local naiads with a nod and she whispered in his ear about dancing. He smiled but shook his head. Steve was sick again, and he needed to keep an eye on him.

He sighed and wove through the crowds on their way to work, wincing at the loss of a few days’ pay. He was still indispensable, thank God, and would keep the job despite having to take time off to care for Steve. Sarah was working in a tuberculosis ward and had insisted that the boys get their own apartment just in case the worse happened. It made things harder for all of them, but Bucky couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved at her insistence. Steve’s immune system was weak and there was no chance he would survive if he caught it, even with a guardian angel.

The brunet sent another quick thank you to the heavens for the blond’s continued survival as he rounded the corner and climbed the steps to their apartment. The door stuck as usual when he tried to open it, and he had to shove his shoulder against it to encourage it along. Bucky heard coughs from their shared bedroom and slammed the door shut before rushing to his ward’s side.

“Hey Stevie, got the medicine. How’re you doin’?” He pulled the glass bottle out of the paper bag he’d been carrying and opened it, lifting Steve’s head so he could drink a measure.

The blond grimaced at the taste. “Still here.”

“I can tell.” Bucky replied flatly. “I’m serious, Steve.”

“Feel like I got hit by a truck.” Steve shivered and gripped the light blanket tighter.

“You’re feelin’ better then. This mornin’ you said you felt like you got hit by a train.” The angel brought a hand to his ward’s forehead and sighed. It wasn’t as hot as it was earlier in the day. Bucky pushed a drop of power from his body to Steve’s, careful not to burn the smaller man out.

“Ow.” His ward mumbled. “Hate it when you do that!”

“Shut it, you know it helps.” The brunet brushed a strand of hair from Steve’s forehead. “Punk.”

“Maybe if you were gentler, jerk.” Bucky stuck his tongue out and Steve grinned. “Anything interesting in the papers?”

The angel frowned, pulling the rolled newspaper from his back pocket and showing it to Steve. “War.” The blond’s eyes widened as he read. “You know if it comes down to it, they’ll take me instead of you.”

Steve threw the paper down. “That’s such horse shit, Buck! A guardian angel should be allowed to stay with their ward.”

“Yeah, thanks for saying the same thing as everyone else, Stevie. They consider it a form of protecting our wards. You know it’s shit, they know it’s shit, but if they need soldiers, they’ll pull out any loophole clause they can to get the men.” In the First World War, Bucky had been lucky enough to be attached to a very old woman, but some of his friends had been sent in place of wards that couldn’t. They hadn’t come back.

“What about me? Don’t they care that something could happen to me?” Steve was angry.

“If it comes down to it, and you’re drafted and can’t go, no, they don’t care. If that happens, all they care about is if there’s a higher chance of you dying, your angel has to go in order to protect you. That’s why so many people are scared.” Bucky would never admit it to Steve, but he was one of the scared people. “But look, for all we know, other countries are gonna take care of the problem and we’ll be over on this side of the ocean, nice and safe.”

“’S not the way it works.”

He drew a wing around his arm and preened it, loose down falling softly onto his lap. Steve was right, wars escalated into something bad for everyone, involved or not. He’d been alive through enough wars and revolutions to understand that. Steve pulled a wing over and helped his angel preen while they thought in silence.

“If you do have to go for me…can you promise me something?” Steve’s voice was quiet.

Bucky turned and looked at him softly. “Anything.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“You’re my ward. Anything you want from me, you get.” Bucky hissed when one of Steve’s fingers caught and tugged on a feather.

“Sorry!” He soothed the quill gently. “Promise me that if you do have to go that you’ll come back to me.”

Bucky stopped preening and nodded. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you. I swear that to you with every fiber of my being.” He smiled. “And I’ve got a lot of fibers in these wings.”

Steve snorted. “Good enough.” He shuddered and starting coughing. They wracked his body and he held onto his angel’s wings tightly until they passed. The brunet held him upright and breathed a sigh of relief when the blond moved his hand from his mouth and it came away without any blood.

“You need to sleep, Stevie.” He kept a hold of his ward with one arm and propped the pillows more upright before laying him back down. “I mean it.”

“Stay here?”

Bucky shifted from his seat at the edge to sit at the head of the bed, curling a wing back around his body to allow Steve to stroke it until he fell asleep. When Steve’s breathing finally settled into some semblance of normalcy, Bucky turned his gaze upwards.

“Please, God, lend me your strength to keep that promise.” He picked up the newspaper that was lying next to his friend and threw it across the room. His next words caught on a sob and he buried his face in his hands. “Please don’t do this to me again.”

+

Bucky’s sister came for a visit around Christmas that year after her ward decided Europe was not where he wanted to be. The French man was interesting and, according to Rebecca, was very good at his job. Unfortunately, he was interviewing for a position in Manhattan, so Bucky and Steve couldn’t meet him. However, it gave Rebecca enough spare time for a visit. She finally caught her brother alone while Sarah and Steve happily puttered around in the kitchen, and dragged the brunet out to the fire escape for a chat.

“Are you alright, James?” She watched him with careful eyes. “You seem…off.”

Bucky took a drink of the whiskey she had brought with her and shrugged, tucking his wings tighter against his back. “Things are okay, but I’m worried about the situation in Europe. If it escalates and they start sending our boys over there, they’re gonna take one look at Steve and take me instead. You know what happened last time.”

Rebecca placed her hand over his and rubbed her thumb over the backs of his fingers. “That wasn’t your fault, and you know it. A lot of wards were lost that day, you weren’t the only angel who mourned.”

“I was the only one who mourned and survived it.” He flinched at the memories of a thousand Graces flaring in the night, screams echoing on the battlefields as the resulting backlash took out more and more angels. Bucky had deserted after that, losing his ward in Atlanta while fighting on the wrong side of history. The only reason he hadn’t been destroyed by the death of his ward was a badly formed bond preventing the death from reaching his Grace.

His sister tightened her grip on his hand and shook her head. “So dramatic. Many others survived the death of their wards, not just you.”

When a ward died a natural death, the bond thinned in the days prior to their passing, fading away into nothing by the time they died. If a ward was killed, there was typically no time for the bond to be severed, and if they died, the backlash of the bond shattering pierced an angel’s Grace and killed the angel as well. Surviving that backlash was rare. Fortunately, the backlash only went the one direction. If an angel dies, the ward survives.

“He still gets into fights, Becca. If I’m gone, he’s going to waltz right into an alley and get himself beaten to death. I’m his angel, if they send me over there, they’re killing both of us.” Bucky downed the rest of his whiskey. “Can we not talk about of this?”

She nodded and hugged her brother, gently nudging his wings with her own. “I brought some presents for you and your ward. You can’t open them until Christmas, though.”

“Jee, thanks Becca. You know I _love_ playing the waiting game.” He kissed the top of her head. “Brat.”

“I try. Come on, it’s _cold!_ ” She stooped through the window and laughed as Bucky had to help her get a wing uncaught.

“It’s New York, of course it’s cold. Better than Michigan!” He shivered as they entered the kitchen, interrupting Sarah and Steve’s joking. Bucky poked Steve with a wingtip and took a seat on a stool. “What are you two cookin’ up?”

Steve pointed to the stove, where potatoes, carrots, and hot dogs were frying happily away. “Just a little something. You have frost on your feathers.”

Bucky startled and pulled a wing close, feeling the buildup of ice crystals. “Damn. Scoot over.” Steve moved so Bucky could turn his back to the stove, allowing the frost to melt quickly. “This is why I miss the South.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You can keep the South. I miss _Hawaii_.” Both angels whined longingly. Then Rebecca sighed, frowning. “I miss France.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate to go over and wrap his sister in his arms and wings. “At least you’re _safe_ here. That nutjob in Germany can’t get to you here...not without getting through me.”

Steve touched one of his wings, getting his attention. He gestured over to the stove and Bucky nodded. “Hey, Becca, food’s done. Let me tell you, you’re gonna _love_ this. Can’t get anythin’ like this in France.”

She backed out of his grip and nodded. “Smells good!” Rebecca looked over at Steve. “I was telling my brother that I brought gifts for you. I even have something for you, Mrs. Rogers.”

Sarah smiled at the younger woman. “Please, call me Sarah. And that’s very kind of you, Rebecca. You know you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did! It’s Christmas and I’m an angel. It’s practically one of our by-laws.” That got a laugh out of everyone, and everything other than dinner and light conversation was forgotten.

+

Liam, Rebecca’s ward, joined them for their Christmas celebrations. Bucky approved of the man in general, pleased that the man appeared to defer to Rebecca’s judgement for most things. His fashion left a little to be desired, but the sweater he was wearing fit with the comfort of the intimate setting, despite its horrible light brown color. He also brought eggnog, which helped even more with the bad sweater.

Steve was actually brave enough to ask about the ugly thing. “Mr. Proctor, where did you get your sweater?”

Rebecca choked on her eggnog as Liam replied, English accent laced with amusement. “ _She_ got it for me when I was sick a few years ago. Was bloody freezing, then she comes home with this hideous thing. For all that the color is bad enough to make a bat cringe, it’s quite comfortable.” He smiled fondly over at Bucky’s sister. “I would have dyed it, but I fear that may make it less soft.”

Rebecca wiped tears from her face. “You forgot to mention that it was the first sweater I got you in France.”

“Ah, yes. The first of, what, twenty?” He shook his head. “Of course, after all the fuss that first year, I went on assignment in Monaco and it’s hardly sweater weather there unless it’s an odd cold snap.”

Bucky looked at the way he gazed at the brunet’s sister and realized that look wasn’t just fondness, it was _love_. Better than that was the loving look Rebecca had for Liam. He cleared his throat, going in for the kill. “Tell me somethin’, Liam. When didja realize you love Becca?”

Sarah and Rebecca both looked appalled at the question, and Liam laughed nervously. “That obvious, am I? I’d say since about a year after she met me. Right when our bond formed is when I realized what had been growing between us. I had to ask her if it was taboo for an angel to love their ward.”

Steve leaned forward. “Doesn’t every angel love their ward?”

Bucky nodded in response. “Of course, Stevie, but loving your ward and being _in love with_ your ward are two very different things. An angel being in love with their ward is very, very taboo. It’s not unheard of, though.” He shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, as long as the love is mutual, it’s acceptable. Sometimes the ward bond is so powerful that it’s damned near impossible to _not_ to fall in love. Sorry, didn’t mean ta take away from your story.”

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine. It’s even more complicated when your ward is a selkie like I am. Becca and I figured as long as we’re not hurting anyone, we can manage.” He gestured to the bag he brought and left by the door. “My fur’s in there.”

Bucky waited and wasn’t disappointed. Steve had perked up. “Can we see it?”

“Steven!” Sarah scolded.

The selkie just laughed. “It’s fine, Mrs. Rogers. I would show it off, but it has to stay in the bag until I want to shift, or it’ll dry out. I was planning on going for a swim later this evening, if you would like to see it then.”

“Thank you, Mr. Proctor, that’s very kind of you.” Sarah said. “Now, if all of you are done with your food, I believe we all have presents to exchange!”

Bucky got up to help Sarah distribute the presents to everyone, including three small ones to Liam. He was surprised and thanked everyone, insisting it wasn’t necessary. Bucky grinned. “It’s a rule in this house that everyone gets a present.” The selkie blushed and repeated his thanks.

When everyone was settled again, they began to take turns opening presents, from youngest to oldest. Bucky, being the oldest, opened last. His first gift was from Rebecca and Liam, and was a flask with the Barnes crest engraved on it. Rebecca had taken the liberty of adding extended wings to it, which Bucky appreciated. He stood up and gave her a hug. “Thanks, sis.”

“You’re welcome, big brother. Now hush, it’s Steve’s turn again.”

Steve opened the gift from Rebecca and admired the brand new sketchbook. Bucky didn’t know a lot about the paper type that the blond was going on about, but the shine in his eyes made him turn to his sister and nod in thanks for bringing some more joy to his ward’s life. When it was the blond’s last turn, he opened up Bucky’s gift, head snapping up to look at the angel with awe.

“Buck, you shouldn’t have! These musta cost a month’s rent!” Steve carefully opened the tin full of charcoal pencils and sighed happily.

Bucky’s gift to his sister and Liam was a special brush for preening, and he congratulated himself on the choice when they both flushed a bright pink. Sarah got a locket with a picture of Steve on one side and him on the other. It had cost him more than he’d wanted to spend, but when she teared up, he gave himself another pat on the back.

Bucky looked at the strange rectangular package that was his present from Steve and carefully opened it according to the “OPEN GENTLY” instructions written on the brown paper. When he tossed the paper to the side, he arched an eyebrow at the worn sketchbook.

“Stevie, thank you, but you know I don’t draw.”

“Open it, jerk.” Steve was grinning ear to ear.

The angel saw why when he opened the book and saw himself on the first page, sitting with his legs propped up on a hospital bed, wings curled around him like a blanket. He flipped to a different page and revealed a picture of himself leaning against a bridge, wings furled loosely against his back. He continued flipping pages, realizing the entire thing was filled with sketches of himself. He closed it gently and looked up.

“Steve, I—“ He shook his head. “Thank you.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “Excuse me a moment please.” Bucky strode from the room and into the bathroom, closing the door and sliding down to the floor in shock. The sketches, while beautiful, showed something he wasn’t ready to see: his ward was in love with him.

Even worse, he was in love with his ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More clarification stuff:
> 
> 1) All angels live where their wards live. In order, Bucky lived with wards in Atlanta, Michigan, Hawaii, and now Brooklyn. Rebecca has lived in Philadelphia, Hawaii, and a bunch of places with Liam.
> 
> 2) It's considered to be very taboo for an angel to fall in love with their ward, because people view it as involuntary due to the nature of the bond. More on the nature of the bond in relationship to consent will be touched on in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to [loveddearle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/loveddearle/) for giving me a much needed criticism. I blame posting at 5 am for my bad choices lol. 
> 
> I would apologize for this chapter, but since I made myself cry, I think we're even.
> 
> Also, if you have criticisms/feedback, please don't be afraid to give them to me. I promise I'm not easily insulted and hey, if I make a mistake, I'd prefer to fix it and create a better story for you lovely people. You can also totally send me a message on [tumblr](http://findyouranchorpoint.tumblr.com/) if you want to give me anonymous feedback.
> 
> Before I forget (AGAIN), here is the [YouTube playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQuGkqfpw_1aZThRcZagJDnLfAGUX3xcQ) for this fic. More songs might be added.

Steve didn’t even notice how long Bucky had been gone until Rebecca came up to him, jerking her head in the direction of the bathroom. “You might want to check on him. He gets stuck in his own head sometimes, and it’s not good for him. Too full of bad memories.”

He looked at the angel. She and Bucky looked so similar, but they were very different. Rebecca lacked the confidence that Bucky had in public, but Bucky didn’t have her grace in private. Their eyes were different, too, Steve noticed. Same shade of slate blue, but hers didn’t seem as haunted. He pushed himself off the chair and was about to go to the bathroom door, but thought he should ask about Becca’s brother.

“What memories?”

She smiled sadly at him, but shook her head, brushing her light brown hair out of her face. “You’ll have to ask him. They’re his to share, not mine. Now go to him, silly boy.” The brunette turned on her heel and walked back into the kitchen to help Sarah start on the preparations for the dinner.

Steve walked over to the bathroom and knocked softly on the door. “Buck? Everything okay?” Something jolted the door, startling the blond. He guessed that Bucky had been leaning against the door. “You can talk to me, you know?”

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Bucky’s voice, though muffled, sounded rough. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The blond wondered what had gotten to Bucky. It was obviously something to do with his gift, but Steve couldn’t figure out if he was just overwhelmed or if it was something else entirely. He could hear his angel muttering to himself, but couldn’t make out any of the words. It worried Steve.

The door opened a few moments later, and Bucky stepped out with an odd expression on his face. “Didn’t mean to hog the bathroom.” He moved to walk around his ward, but Steve grabbed his arm to stop him. “What?”

“Come with me for a minute.” Steve pulled the brunet into the spare bedroom and closed the door before speaking. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just was thinking.” Bucky was a bad liar.

“Bullshit. You practically ran away after you saw my gift, and I would like to know why. What’s going on?” Steve could feel the anxiety coursing along their bond and tried his best to soothe it. It was rare that he could feel something from Bucky, and the fact that he could now was not a good sign.

“Why did you draw me so many times?” The angel’s voice was so soft that Steve barely caught it.

Steve huffed. “Because you’re my guardian angel and I like to draw. Sometimes I get that itch in my fingers, and since you’re almost always around, I usually draw you. Your wings are a pain in the ass, by the way.”

“So you drew me because you could.” The tension in Bucky’s body culminated in his wings furling closer to his back. Steve thought he could hear the bones creak.

He blond brought a hand up to stroke the golden feathers, but Bucky jerked the wing away from his hands. “What the hell? C’mon, Buck, I know there’s something buggin’ you! You can talk to me.”

“Did you know that hardly anyone _pets_ an angel’s wings? I was talkin’ to that new one at the docks, and they said they never had anyone touch their wings. And they’re much older than me!” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, and Steve could tell he was upset. “But _you_ …you’ve been _obsessed_ with them since I met you! What’s more is that no one—and I mean _no one_ —has ever been able to see their angel’s wings until their bond formed. _You_ could see them the day we met!”

“Bucky, calm down, you’re not makin’ sense! What’s this got to do with today?” Steve reached out to comfort his angel, but pulled his hand back at the last second.

“Everything!” The angel turned as if to start pacing, realized he didn’t have the room to do so, and sat heavily on the bed. “And don’t give me the whole ‘I’m a warlock’ explanation. That doesn’t hold up. I just…” He whimpered helplessly and turned his head away.

The blond sat down next to the angel. “I don’t know why I can see them. It’s not just yours though, it’s everyone’s wings. I can also see through the glamor of the faeries and pixies, and I can tell gremlins from brownies, and naiads from dryads. Skinwalkers and selkies are difficult because they look normal until they put on their skins.” Bucky didn’t say anything, just stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

His angel shook his head. “You’re _human_ , you shouldn’t see those things. It’s impossible.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I only look human. I have no idea what I am, but I know I’m not _just_ human. Something…” He lowered his gaze to his hands. If he could know what he was, he would feel better. He supposed that the world didn’t work like that. “Something is underneath what you see. But I still don’t understand why you’re upset, Buck.”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair again, anxiety clear in his movements. He reached for Steve’s hand, only to pull back at the last second. “What does the bond feel like to you?”

He was a little thrown by the question. The angel had never brought up their bond in more than a passing comment since the day it formed. Steve thought for a moment, looking for that comforting hum deep inside his soul. There weren’t words to express _exactly_ how it felt, so he shrugged. “’M not really sure. Warm, I guess?”

“To me, it feels like I’m vibrating. It feels like electricity along every nerve, like it’s about to burn me to death but never does. It feels like drowning at the same time, like I can’t get enough air, can’t breathe. There’s a stone on my chest someone’s pressing down on it.” The angel’s voice was soft.

“Buck—“

“And it’s not enough, Steve. Every time I touch our bond, I feel like I need more of all of it. I want it to burn me, to drown me, to make me forget what breathing is like, and even all of that isn’t enough! It’s consuming me, and I’m loving every _second_ of it! I can’t stop touching it, because I’ve never had a bond this strong before. It’s _killing_ me, and I need it to.” The angel was shaking.

When Steve put his hand on the wing closest to him, the brunet whimpered, sobbing. He helped his angel sit, mindful of his wing position. “Is that what’s this about? Our bond?” Bucky started to shrug, but changed his mind and nodded.

“I don’t—yes. I think so.”

“I think I can explain what it feels like, if you still want to know.” A small nod. “It feels like everything I need, Buck. A warm fire in the middle of winter, a cool drink in summer, a breath of fresh air when I can’t get my lungs to cooperate.” He mentally touched on his bond, which caused the angel to flinch. “Sorry.”

“Tickles.” A ghost of a smile played at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“I get scared, sometimes, when I have an attack and you’re not around. When my lungs stop working properly, the bond helps me stay calm and get my breathing under control.” Steve moved his arm and comforted his angel the only way he knew how, gently running his hand over the brunet’s wing. “It’s my anchor.”

Bucky looked at him, eyes red with unshed tears. He opened his mouth to speak, shook his head, and sighed. “It’s overwhelming to me.”

The blond continued petting the wing and nodded. “I lied to you the first day it formed. Mr. Louis didn’t close the shop because he was sick, he closed because I collapsed at work when the bond formed.” He felt the feathers beneath his hand fluff with anger and couldn’t meet his angel’s eyes. “When I got home, the only think I could think of was not worrying you, so I didn’t say anything about it. I was in the shower when I first tried to figure out what happened, and might have…tugged? On the bond, I mean.”

“ _That’s_ why it locked up my wings!” Bucky growled.

“I figured that out, yeah. Sorry.” Steve shifted his hand to slide between the layers of feather and pet Bucky’s down. He wasn’t convinced that everything was based on what their bond felt like and remembered what Rebecca had said about the bad memories. “Seriously, what’s the matter today? You’re avoiding the question.”

The brunet’s free wing curled around him, but Steve could see him considering how to explain. He finally broke the silence. “It’s the time of year, mostly. And the situation overseas.” He groaned, hanging his head. “And your gift, too.”

The blond man stopped petting the wing. “Do you need your other wing? Will it make you feel better?”

“Thank you.” Bucky carefully moved it to also curl protectively around himself. He took a deep breath and continued. “It wasn’t even the gift. Not—hmm.” He paused. “I guess it was seeing myself with way you did. I looked so different in those sketches than I felt on some of those days. That one on the bridge? I was thinking about back in Atla—back with my first ward. My mind was in a thousand pieces and you saw me as serene. It hurt to know the difference between what I felt and what you saw.”

There was a long pause as the angel let some of the tears flow. He tightened his wings and shuddered. Steve wanted to touch them but held back and instead extended a handkerchief to his angel, who took it without a word. “I’m sorry.”

“No! No, Steve, no. It’s not your fault. I really do like the gift, but—“

“Rebecca said you have too many bad memories.”

“That traitor.”

“Can you explain why the time of year bothers you?” The blond scooted over a few inches to lean against the golden wings. “And I think I get why you’re nervous about Germany.”

Bucky scoffed. “You really, really don’t.”

“Then tell me. Time of year first though.”

“They go hand in hand, Stevie.” Steve perked up at the use of the nickname. Bucky went on. “My first ward was only two when I was assigned to him. Tiniest thing I ever saw. I was fresh out of training, and was so excited to meet him. His mother and father were so thankful that I came along, because he was very sick. They thought I could help him, but the illness wasn’t something that could be cured. Turned out he had rickets and his bones never developed properly. Poor kid was never able to walk.

“He loved it when I flew him everywhere, and we were close. He was like my little brother, his family was like my own. They weren’t even mad that I couldn’t cure his disease. But when the bond formed, he panicked. You know that it can be…intense, obviously. He had no idea what was happening, even though I was right there with him, and while the bond formed, it was damaged by his fear. We were still close, even if I could barely feel him if I wasn’t in close proximity. Then, when he was twenty, the conscription happened. So many people tried to get around it, especially in Georgia, but then both governments passed the Law of Guardian Substitution, and anyone physically unable to be drafted and had a guardian angel had to be substituted by their angel. It was easier for the governments to use us anyway, since we’re all battle-ready.”

He took a deep breath before sobs shook his body. Steve did touch his wings that time and leaned his head against the soft feathers. “I’m here, it’s okay, take your time.” A soft creak made Steve turn towards the door, where Rebecca had opened it a crack to check on them. The blond barely shook his head, but she closed the door silently to give them their privacy.

When Bucky spoke again, his voice was rough. “I hated every second of it. I wasn’t even fighting for the side I agreed with, and so many—“ Another sob worked its way out of his body. “So many soldiers were killed by angels who were trained from birth. Some of them were only kids. Some angels tried to resist fighting, wanting only to do stuff that didn’t make them take a life. The word of their execution spread like wildfire through both armies, and the rest of us had our wards to think about. They never put us against other angels. Smart move, that one.

“It was November and I was in Tennessee when it happened. We were on the move, trying to get from one place to another. My regiment was from Atlanta, and maybe six hundred of us were angels there for our wards. It was the middle of the night, and everything was pretty quiet when it happened. A scream, a short spark of light, then nothing. It happened again when the other soldiers started whispering. A friend of mine, taken because his ward had a cold—a cold!—when the notices went out, whispered to me that it was dying Graces that we were seeing.

“We’d known Sherman was on the march, getting closer to Atlanta every day, but we never thought—“ His voice broke and he wiped tears away before continuing. “The sparks got more and more frequent, burning into my mind, screams echoing in my ears. My friend died right next to me, and I couldn’t even process it because I just kept thinking about when it would be my turn to die. When morning came around and we could look at the devastation, it was horrible. Forty angels had survived their Graces being destroyed, wings blackened and souls torn. They begged us to kill them, and, God help us, we did. Those of us who remained stayed away from the rest of the soldiers, just grateful that our wards were safe. I don’t even know how many of us there were. Not many…less than thirty, I think”

The brunet’s voice went cold. “I didn’t even think to check for the bond in the days that followed. We made it to the burned remnants of the city before I thought to check on my ward. But…when I tried to reach the bond, there was nothing. _Nothing_. I remember screaming and screaming until an officer sent another angel to find my ward. They came back with news of a house burned to the ground and three bodies. I don’t remember anything but grief for the rest of the war and the years between that ward and the next.”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve muttered as Bucky dissolved into harder sobs. “I can’t imagine…oh, Bucky, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around the angel as best he could. The blond understood why he’d been tense and distant the past few months. If there was a chance something like that could happen again…his grip tightened around the brunet.

When he was able to talk again, Bucky whispered, “Jackson. His name was Jackson.” He choked on another sob. “And I should have been there for him.”

“You didn’t have a choice, Bucky.” He lifted his head from the wing and looked at his friend. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

The angel moved his wings and turned his body towards Steve. “Please.” His tears hadn’t stopped yet, and Steve could tell by how his body was shaking that the visible grief wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg.

The blond knew what he was asking, and drew the angel into a hug. He stayed there, rubbing the angel’s feathers as Bucky shattered in his arms, tears soaking his shirt. Steve’s eyes shifted to the ceiling. _Please, God, don’t let him go through this again. I beg you, please protect him from that fate_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think 4 chapters in 3 days is a new record for me...
> 
> _NOTE: This chapter does deal with talking about the Bible, and I just want to make it clear that I'm not trying to diminish what the Bible means to a lot of people, and neither is the character. He just has a limited experience with the actual book._
> 
> _Also, I use Gaeilghe in this chapter (all of two sentences!), I just used Google Translate for it, so if it doesn't mean what it says it means, please forgive me._
> 
> Thanks go out to [loveddearle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/loveddearle/) again, just for being awesome, and [sephezade81](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sephezade81/) for tagging their bookmark in a way that made me laugh really hard. Thank you both!
> 
> Another big thank you goes out to [stevenbvcky](http://stevenbvcky.tumblr.com/) for letting me flood their inbox with messages of me freaking out about this story.
> 
> In other news, my brain has started imagining golden wings on everyone, so you all should go watch [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-tW0CkvdDI), which you all have probably seen, and use your imaginations to picture Bucky with wings doing this (without the risk of smacking his wings into anything).
> 
> If you guys have questions for me, or want to just chat, find me on [Tumblr!](http://findyouranchorpoint.tumblr.com/)

They sat together for what seemed like hours until Bucky’s breathing evened out and Steve realized he’d fallen asleep. Reliving the emotional trauma from his past must have exhausted him, and the blond couldn’t blame him. He felt guilty for prying like he had, but at the same time, felt like it was a relief for the angel to tell Steve what he’d gone through. The blond shifted the angel’s wings and carefully slid out of Bucky’s grip, laying the angel down gently to rest. Steve took a moment to collect himself, then quietly left the room.

Rebecca was waiting for him just outside the door with her arms crossed. Steve had the urge to berate her for encouraging him to ask her brother about everything. However, the sympathy in her eyes made him pause.

“I think he should rest until dinner.” He stated simply.

“I’m sorry, Steven. I didn’t know it would be that bad.” Rebecca broke eye contact and looked at the floor. “He hasn’t spoken to anyone but me about that.”

That didn’t surprise Steve, not with how emotional the angel had become before even retelling the worst part of his experience. “To go through something like that…I can’t even begin to understand what that was like. He told me about the night in the field, and seeing angels dying left and right, and the _thought_ of that scares the hell outta me. To _experience_ it? I’m surprised he didn’t go insane.”

“He did.” The brunette remarked. “Did he say anything about not remembering some time?” Steve nodded. “When Bucky finally opened up to me, he said it felt like it happened yesterday, but it was _thirty years_ , Steve. He doesn’t remember anything, even after our mentors tried to get the memories to resurface. It’s as if they don’t exist.”

Steve gasped. Losing a few months, he could understand. Shutting out the memories for a few years, he could also understand. But losing three _decades_? It was shocking. “What happened to him?”

“A Seraph came for him, took him back to our training grounds. They helped him heal to a point, and retrain, but he wasn’t assigned someone who would die like that again. The woman in Michigan was sixty with a heart condition and died in her sleep three years after he was assigned to her. He barely even reacted to that, so they assigned him to a Nereid in Hawaii while I was assigned to her twin. She died before a bond had formed, but it almost destroyed him, losing someone else prematurely. So, they came for him again. That time, they thought he’d never be fit for another assignment. But he healed, and they sent him to you. Why, I don’t know, but he’s been better than ever with you.”

“He seems to just get frustrated with me. I don’t see how that’s helpful.” Steve started walking toward the kitchen and living room. His mother and Liam were speaking in quiet tones when they walked in. Sarah stood and hugged her son.

“Is he alright?” Her hands were cool against Steve’s skin, but no more than usual. The last thing Bucky needed was to deal with an ill ward.

The blond nodded. “He’s just exhausted. Winter’s not a good time for him, Ma.”

She leaned forward and kissed her son’s forehead, always knowing how to comfort him. “Alright, dear, we’ll let him rest until dinner is ready.” She sat back down next to Liam, and Rebecca say on the other side of her ward, yielding the armchair to him. “Liam here leads a fascinating life! One that you will never, under any circumstance, try to emulate.”

+

When Bucky woke up, he was alone in the spare bedroom, curled on the bed with his wings as his blanket. He felt _terrible_. His head was stuffy and his eyelashes were sticking together, as if he’d been crying. Then he remembered that he _had_ been crying. On _Steve_. He brought his wings up to cover his head, remembering that he’d told his ward about Jackson. Just thinking the name brought fresh tears to his eyes.

Something Steve had said made him stop and think, though. _There wasn’t anything you could have done_. If he had been there, able to save him, obviously his past would have been drastically different. But…but what if he’d been there and still hadn’t be able to save him? Well, for one, he probably would have died with the family. That would be preferable to dealing with his grief. He shuddered. If he had tried to save his ward and failed, that would be so much worse. He wouldn’t have come back from the black pit of his grief that he can only remember from when he climbed out of it.

There was a knock on the door—thank _God_ —and he didn’t move from his spot covered by his wings. “Come in.”

“Buck?” Steve. “It’s me. Dinner’s ready if you want to eat.”

His stomach betrayed him by growling loudly. Bucky moved his left wing and looked at the blond. “Food sounds good. How long did I sleep?”

Long, thin fingers caressed his feathers and the brunet had to bite back a noise. It always felt good when his ward had his hands on his wings. “About three hours. Everyone agreed to let you sleep.”

Bucky lifted the wing to peek out from under it. “Did I miss anything exciting? I don’t smell burning, so you probably didn’t let Rebecca in the kitchen. Smart move.” Better to hide under his humor than to face the reality of his past.

Steve, thankfully, took the hint and didn’t bring it up. “Liam stopped Ma from inviting her to help. Something about Easter gone wrong.” The blond grinned, lifting a feather to show Bucky. “Stop shedding!”

“Would if I could, trust me. Just put it with the others you’ve kept.” He watched the blond’s expression changed and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you say it—“

Too late. “Barbules.” And then Steve’s grin widened and started chuckling.

“That’s it!” Bucky snarled and snatched his ward’s sides, tickling just beneath his ribs and taking a sadistic pleasure in the squeals. After a few seconds, he stopped so he wouldn’t trigger Steve’s asthma. “I should have never told you what they were called. Of course, a _mature_ adult would have gotten over it after they turned twelve.”

His ward stuck his tongue out. Then, suddenly, the smile was gone and Steve was ducking his head. “Buck, about earlier—“

“Not today, Stevie. Please.” The angel couldn’t handle speaking about it anymore. “Not today.”

Steve shook his head. “No, no, I know. I wanted to say thank you for trusting me and letting me in. Can we eventually talk about your life, though? Not that part, but others? Today made me realize that you know more about me than I know about you.”

“That’s because it’s not about me, pal. My life isn’t my own. It’s never been my own. I exist to protect others. I’m the sacrificial lamb for someone better than myself. My life is meant to be snuffed out so someone better than me can continue living.” He shrugged. “Every angel is told that sacrificing themselves for their wards brings them into God’s embrace.”

“You know I’m never going to agree with that.” His ward was petting the shed feather lovingly. “Even if it does turn out to be the way everything works, I don’t agree with it for a single second.”

The angel stood up and extended his wings to shake them out. Several more feathers fell and he cringed at the idea of a full molt. It _itched_. “So, you still want to learn about me.”

“Yep.”

“You would.” His stomach grumbled again and he chuckled. “Alright, but not now. When we get home, maybe. If we don’t go out there now, though, Sarah is going to murder both of us with a smile on her face.”

Steve nodded and picked up the other shed feathers. Bucky knew he’d throw them out, but keep the flight feather he was holding. It warmed his soul to know that his ward always kept one flight feather from the yearly molt. The angel had seen his ward throw out the feather from the past molt and replace it with a recent one, except for the first feather he’d been given and the one from the day their bond had formed.

He’d assumed that Steve had loved him based on the gift he’d been given, but when he’d explained, Bucky had changed his mind. Now that he was paying attention to the way Steve treated his feathers, he wasn’t so sure any more. Was it respect for him or something more? He mentally shook himself. It wasn’t the time to dwell on what ifs. It was the time to be with family and friends and try to ignore the past that still dwelt in the cracks of his mind.

+

After a calm dinner and pleasant farewells, Bucky was glad to be home. Their apartment was nice and warm since they’d been able to pay their bills for the month, so the snow on his wings melted in short order, though he’d waited by the doorway so he wasn’t dripping everywhere. The somber mood between him and Steve had returned halfway through their walk home, and Bucky wasn’t looking forward to the questions his ward would no doubt ask.

“When were you born?” Steve asked almost immediately.

“Excuse me?” The angel wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. Surely he wanted to ask about something other than his age.

“I asked, when were you born?” The blond put the leftovers in the icebox. “I know you’re really old, but I don’t know how old. You said a couple hundred years when I met you.”

He was a little taken aback and bought himself a moment to pull himself together by carefully shaking his wings out to get the now-melted snow off. Another feather came off and he glared at it. An itchy few days were in his future. “I’m three hundred and twenty-two. So...1617. March 20th, but you knew that.” Steve gaped and Bucky just shrugged as he tossed the molted feather into the trash bin.

“You’re older than the United States!”

The brunet laughed. “Yeah, by a lot. Don’t start asking me history questions, though, I was in training until the 1800s.” He’d heard about the major events, but hadn’t actually witnessed them.

“Where do you train? Heaven?” The look in his ward’s eyes was almost hopeful.

“No. I don’t even know if Heaven is a real place. I think it is, but I don’t think that’s what we call it. It’s a word created by humans.” Bucky had to think of how to explain the place he’d been born and raised. There wasn’t a word for it that he knew of. “I’m not sure how to…hm. Alright, imagine this world is a piece of paper. Take a different piece of paper and put it next to it. That second piece of paper is my birthplace.”

“O-kay.” Steve seemed hesitant. “It’s a different world?”

“Mm, sorta. You’ve still got the pieces of paper, right?” Bucky was making a mess of the explanation. He waited for the blond to nod. “Take a pencil and poke through both papers, and that’s how we get from one place to the other. Except, well, those holes are everywhere. Every bit of the papers is covered by those holes, but you still have paper. Uhh, except the holes don’t go through both sides, and they just kinda sit there, and—“

“Instead of holes, could we use paste? To connect them?”

The brunet sent thanks to God for the brains his ward had been gifted with. “Yeah, they’re pasted together. Thank you. There’s not a word in English to convey it. In Seraphi, it’s—“ He spoke the word, savoring the feel of it on his tongue, and watched Steve’s face pinch with confusion. “What?”

“It sounds like a bunch of clicks and vowels. Is that really a language?”

He spoke again and listened to himself that time. Steve was right, it did rely on clicks and tones to convey a meaning. “It is, but you’re right. I never thought about that. It’s been _years_ since I’ve spoken Seraphi.”

“Seraphi?” Steve cocked his head. “What, the language of Seraphim?”

“Basically, yes. They spoke first and the rest of us followed. The lower orders of angels don’t even speak it anymore, but guardians have to. The Seraphim train us. It was the first language I ever spoke.” He missed it, but English felt better when spoken. It was the language of all of his wards.

The blond flopped down on the couch with a drawn out sigh. “Do they really look like the Bible says?”

Bucky sat next to Steve, who propped his feet on the angel’s lap. The brunet grunted before leaning forward and moving his wings to drape over the back of the couch. “I wouldn’t know.”

“They trained you, so you saw them, right?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t know how the Bible describes them. I’ve never read it. Ow!” Steve had sat up, accidentally digging his heel into Bucky’s thigh.

The blond was incredulous. “You haven’t read the Bible?! You’re an _angel!_ ”

“The Bible was written by humans, Stevie. Angels pass our history down vocally. We don’t even really know what happened a long time ago, because the story changes a little each time it’s told.” He held up his hands in defense. “I’m not saying the Bible is wrong, but I think it’s more meant to give people hope and help them find their moral compasses. Again, I haven’t read it, so I might be wrong.”

Steve settled back down. “So what do they look like?”

“Well, a lot different than me. Their wings are white, for one, and a lot smaller than mine. They have six of them, so they don’t need big ones. They’re not small, though. Uh, oh! They are a lot taller than us, too. Maybe seven feet? Eight? Somewhere around there. Their eyes are pure white, but if you get close enough, you can still tell they have irises and pupils. They’re just white, too.” Bucky smiled. “Anything like what the Bible says?

“Yeah. Six wings is definitely something that’s mentioned. Nothing else though. Well,” His ward smiled. “The Book of Revelations says they’re covered in eyes.”

The angel couldn’t help but laugh. “I know where _that_ comes from! Most guardians complain at least once about eyes in the back of their heads. No one gets away with anything.” He shook his head, still laughing. “I promise they only have two.”

Steve winced at something and shifted the couch pillow around before speaking again. “How many languages do you know? Human languages.”

“Five?” Bucky did a mental tally. “Other than English, I mean. So six. English, Finnish, Hawaiian—which is called something different—Spanish, Gaeilgh, and German. Oh, wait, no, seven. Forgot about French.”

“Labhraíonn tú a lán de na teangacha!” _You speak a lot of languages!_

The angel laughed at his ward. “Nach oiread agus is Rebecca!” _Not as many as Rebecca!_ He’d had no idea that Steve spoke Gaeilgh, but he should have. Sarah was an Irish immigrant, after all. “I haven’t spoken that in years, sorry about the accent.”

Steve shrugged. “Brooklyn accent with Gaeilgh isn’t as bad as it could be. Is it okay that I’m asking you questions like this?”

“That’s a question.” Bucky waited for his ward to blush and duck his head in apology before letting himself grin. “I told you when I met you that you could ask as many questions as you liked, but you musta forgot. Do you need water or anything? I’m going to grab a cup if you’re gonna keep asking questions.”

“Sure, thanks.” He moved his feet off of Bucky’s lap and watched as the angel moved. “Are you molting?”

Bucky snarled, grabbed a feather from the couch and through it all of two inches. “ _Yes!_ I hate molting!” He stormed into the kitchen and slammed two sturdy cups onto the counter. “I’m going to need your help with getting some of the new feathers cleaned.”

He could hear his ward laughing softly as the angel filled up the glasses. “You always do. We can soak them tomorrow. I’ve never asked, exactly how long are your wings, anyway? Don’t think I’ve ever seen them fully extended unless you were flying.”

The brunet came over to the couch and gave Steve his glass. He hadn’t been able to extend them unless outside or flying, but if he stood in the perfect spot in the apartment, he might be able to get them all the way out. “They’re about fourteen feet each, maybe a little more. That’s just an estimate, because it’s not like I can measure them myself. Do you wanna see, now that you’re not being rushed to the hospital after getting the snot beat outta you?”

At least Steve had the decency to look ashamed as he nodded. “Will you fit?” The blond looked skeptical.

“I think if I stand in the kitchen and line up with the bedroom, I’ll be able to. Might have to open the front door for a minute.”

“Let’s just go outside, Buck. It won’t take long, right?” Steve was already moving towards the front door.

Bucky rolled his eyes and joined his ward in shrugging into his jacket, zipping up the cloth under his wing joints before doing the same to the front. “Put on your hat. If we’re doing this outside, I don’t want you getting sick… _again_.” Steve meekly put on his hat and they moved outside into the snow.

When they got to the bottom of their stairs, the angel moved so he wouldn’t hit any buildings and stretched his wings with a sigh of relief. It felt good to extend both at once instead of one at a time like he usually did. He could hear Steve gasp from behind him and grinned, looking over his shoulder at one of his massive wings. Since he couldn’t see his ward, he had no idea what expression he was wearing, and he jumped when he felt a gloved hand stroking an exposed pin feather.

“Careful, that one’s sensitive still.” Very sensitive actually. Fortunately Steve moved to a secondary feather before causing any pain. “Well?”

If Bucky didn’t know better, he’d think his ward was having an asthma attack, the way his voice was wavering and breathy. “How did I not see this?”

“Hmm?”

“How could I not know how _gorgeous_ your wings were like this?” Steve’s hand moved to the space between his two wings and the two wing joints there. It made the angel shudder. “Does that hurt?”

He needed a moment to get a hold of himself, but shook his head. “No, just wasn’t expecting it.” He slowly furled his wings so his ward would have the chance to see the muscles working. They folded neatly against his back, rising above his shoulders and wingtips barely above the hem of his pants.

Steve cleared his throat, backing up a few steps. “Let’s get inside. It’s _cold!_ ”

Was it? Bucky hadn’t noticed. He nodded anyway, gesturing for Steve to go first. After they got inside and resettled on the couch, he noticed Steve couldn’t take his eyes off his wings. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The blond took a drink of the water and kept his eyes on the golden feathers. Bucky thought he was going to have to snap his fingers to get Steve’s attention on him again, but the man snapped himself out of whatever trance he’d been in. When he met Bucky’s eyes, his own pupils were blown. His voice shook as he spoke. “Hey Buck?”

“Mm?” He tried to act like he was oblivious to the arousal coming off Steve in waves. His ward licked his lips and made that task harder for the angel. Bucky reasoned that as long as he didn’t do anything to the man, he wouldn’t be breaking any taboo.

“Can—can you wrap me in your wings?” Steve looked like he was ashamed for even asking, blushing a deep shade of pink. “Please?”

Bucky almost stood to do so, but had a better idea at the last moment. “Come here.” He patted his lap and was stunned when the blond didn’t even hesitate to interpret that to mean _straddle_ his lap. He cleared his throat, but didn’t make his ward move as he brought his wings forward and carefully wrapped them around Steve.

The angel breathed a sigh of relief when Steve didn’t do anything except look at his cocoon with awe. If he’d moved or started to stroke the wings, Bucky’s determination to not step over certain boundaries would have gone out the door. After a few minutes, he unwrapped his wings and let Steve scramble back to the other side of the couch.

“I see why you like sleeping like that.”

Those weren’t the first words he was expecting out of his ward’s mouth, but at least they weren’t going to get him in trouble. “I don’t see them when I’m asleep, Steve.” He remarked dryly. “They just keep me warm, which is nice this time of year, and cool during the summer. Just like birds.”

It was several long minutes before the blond spoke again, having to pry his eyes away from Bucky’s wings again. “Have you slept with any of your wards?”

Bucky choked on his water, coughing hard as he tried to get his lungs to work at the same time his brain stopped working. He set the glass down and looked at Steve through watering eyes. “W-what?!”

Steve had both hands clasped over his mouth, eyes wide. He shook his head vigorously. “I didn’t mean to say that! I didn’t…aw hell.”

“You know as well as I do that it’s taboo. Is that what you’re expecting me to do? Sleep with you because you like my wings?” He kept his voice level, even though he knew the answer. He wasn’t angry, but he didn’t want to encourage Steve to actually start something. “It is, isn’t it?”

“No! No, no, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, and I don’t expect that. I _swear!_ ” The smaller man shook his head again, humiliation clear in his expression of fear and shock. “Please don’t even answer that question. I—“

“It’s okay, Steve. I’m not mad, just shocked. Do over?”

“ _Please!_ ”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Have you ever gone steady with another angel?” The blush on the blond’s face deepened even further, but this time he didn’t apologize for the question.

“No. Angels only have spare time between wards. I haven’t had that, except for the years that I don’t remember.” He sighed. “And yes, I have. Uh, to answer your last question.”

Steve perked up instantly, cocking his head. “But you said—“

“Only non-angels consider it taboo. Some angels do as well, but most assume it’ll happen eventually. The biggest problem among angels is making sure you’re not influencing the ward through the bond.” He took a deep breath. “That wasn’t a problem with me.”

It took a moment for his ward to comprehend what he meant. “Him. You had a relationship with him.”

Bucky could have cried when his first ward’s name wasn’t used. Hearing it in this context would probably turn him into a sobbing mess again. “Yes. Not until a couple of years before I had to leave for the—the—“

Steve nodded. “It’s okay, I understand. Was he the only one?”

“Yes. I think Kalea and I would have, but…” He stopped. He’d said enough about one lost ward. Another was too much. Bucky turned his head toward Steve, smirking. “Is it just my wings?”

The blond chucked. “No, but I do like them. They’re nice to touch. I mostly like them because you control them. I don’t think I’d like them so much if they weren’t attached to you.”

There wasn’t a way to take that badly, and the angel was flattered. He moved his arms from his lap and turned the power of his full grin on his ward. “C’mere.” Steve wasted no time placing himself where he’d been before, this time sitting down fully on the brunet’s thighs. He looked unsure, so Bucky brought a hand up to his cheek and rubbed his thumb against his ward’s cheekbone. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He proved his point by wrapping his wings around the two of them, creating a shelter of gold. Steve’s eyes went wide again and this time Bucky was paying attention to his physical reaction. Watching the blond’s breathing get faster was equal parts arousing and worrying, but the man didn’t seem to be distressed other than by Bucky’s wings. The thought of that made the angel let loose a breathy laugh.

The sound caught Steve’s attention, and suddenly his ward was laying against his chest, smiling. Bucky let the man nuzzle his shirt until his head lifted again.

“Can we not do anything yet? Can I just sleep with you like this?” Steve looked nervous. “Or, well, that won’t work with you having to sleep on your stomach. We could—no, that won’t work either. Or maybe—“

The brunet’s laughter wasn’t so breathy this time. “How about I sleep on my stomach and you use my wing as another blanket? Then we can both be comfortable.”

“Okay.” Steve shifted and Bucky moved his wings so the man could stand up and they could make their way to the bedroom.

Truthfully, the brunet was happy it would just be sleeping this time. With everything he brought to the surface at Sarah’s apartment, he wasn’t sure he could do anything more and not remember his time with Jackson. He followed Steve to the bedroom and stripped out of his clothes, leaving on his undergarments to not give the wrong idea. His ward had apparently been thinking along those same lines, because he too was still in his underwear when he got into his bed. Bucky realized a logistical problem after he saw how little room there would be for his wings if he shared the bed with his ward, and he dragged his bed over to Steve’s. It worked much better, because he was able to cover Steve with one wing and let the other go limp and drape over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. It didn’t take long for both of them to get comfortable and drift off.

It was the best sleep Bucky had had in _ages_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me so far guys! Please take note of the new rating.
> 
> Thanks go to [loveddearle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/loveddearle/) for letting me chat them up on Skype while struggling with this chapter! You have no idea how much it actually helped.
> 
> There is a [YouTube playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQuGkqfpw_1aZThRcZagJDnLfAGUX3xcQ) to go with this story, so go ahead and enjoy that.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr!](http://findyouranchorpoint.tumblr.com/)

“Alright, I’ve got one. Are your bones hollow like a birds?”

Steve was sitting on the couch curled up and miserable with another winter cold four days after Christmas. Bucky laughed from the kitchen, where he was making some soup for his ward. Thankfully, they’d caught the cold early and kept it in check with a drop of the angel’s power each day. Didn’t make the illness any more pleasant to deal with, but at least it was keeping to his head and not settling in his lungs. He blew his nose and sniffled.

“’M serious, Buck! Birds have hollow bones so they can fly, right? So, do you?” He looked over towards the stove and caught the brunet shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“My bones can’t be hollow and hold up against our training regimen. My wing bones aren’t even hollow. We angels have a lot of muscle mass to allow us to fly, but I don’t think a normal human in my place would be able to fly.” He paused and gazed at Steve. “Then again, _you_ might be able to.”

If his angel wasn’t by the stove, he would have thrown a pillow at his head. Instead, he grumbled from his spot, snuggling further into the blankets. He registered Bucky’s amused apology and waved it off. “Wise guy. Just ‘cause you can fly, you think you got a right to give me lip.”

“Mhm!” Steve jolted up, not expecting Bucky to be right behind him. “Here, eat.”

The blond took the bowl of chicken soup from the angel, tucking his legs up so Bucky could sit next to him on the couch. He did so with a grin, reaching over and tugging the blanket down to cover his ward’s feet. Steve made a grateful noise as he ate a spoonful of the soup. “Thanks. Mm! Got another question. How come angel wings all look different? You’re all angels, shouldn’t they all look similar, at least?”

Bucky picked up the still-damp cloth that he had been using earlier and went back to carefully getting the coating off of some new feathers. Every few seconds he would wince and move to a different feather before finally snarling and putting the cloth down. “We _do_ look similar. All angels have golden wings.” He stretched the outermost part of his wing, inspecting his primaries. “There are a lot of different looking humans, right? You all look similar, but you’ve got different features. Same with our feather patterns. Rebecca got Father’s pattern, I got something between his and Mother’s. It’s just how it is.”

It made sense to Steve, as did most of his angel’s answers. Then again, he wasn’t asking particularly hard questions. He wasn’t about to start, either, not with his angel truly calm for the first time since Christmas. The blond settled for watching Bucky take care of his wings and eating his soup. Bucky seemed to find a feather that required his full attention anyway, and it was several minutes of companionable silence before the angel spoke.

“You’re still obsessed with my wings, aren’t you?” He looked at his ward with a twinkle in his eye. “All of your questions today have been about them.”

The blond felt himself blushing as he leaned over to set his empty bowl on table. “I’ll always love them.” He made a noise in the back of his throat when the wing closest to him moved to drape over his lap. Steve looked at the angel, who had a soft smile on his face, and began gently petting the feathers, careful to avoid the sensitive pin feathers.

“I’ll always love when you pet them.” Bucky’s voice was quiet and shy, and Steve looked up again, catching the light blush on the angel’s cheeks.

He had an idea. It might have been a bad one, but Steve liked it. The blond slowly brought the feathers closer to him and gently, carefully, pressed his lips to one of the new ones.

The angel’s mouth fell open and he let out the most _glorious_ sound Steve had ever heard in his entire life. Bucky was looking at him, eyes darkened, watching him place another kiss on another new feather. The blond met his gaze and kissed a third feather, smirking when he removed his lips from it. Bucky was breathing hard, wings trembling, when he moved quickly, bringing Steve into his embrace and wrapping both of them in his wings.

“Please do that again.” The angel’s voice was _gone_ , rough and deeper than normal, and Steve didn’t even hesitate to shift and straddle the brunet’s legs. He leaned over and kept his eyes locked on Bucky’s as he kissed his wing, this time a little harder than before. Bucky jerked against him, and hissed when his hips met Steve’s.

The movement brought the blond’s gaze down and he grinned proudly when he saw that Bucky was hard, all because of _him_. He leaned forward and whispered into his angel’s ear. “You like that? Me worshiping your wings like they’re the world itself?” Steve leaned back, shifting so his hips rubbed against Bucky’s erection again.

The brunet made a choked sound, head thrown back against the back of the couch, and his hands moved from Steve’s arms to his hips, gripping almost hard enough to bruise. “ _Steve_ …ah!”

“What is it, Buck?” The blond couldn’t help the grin on his face, immensely pleased that he was doing this to his angel. He leaned forward again. “Do you want me to do that again? Do that to you while I kiss your wings?”

Bucky lifted his head, eyes half-lidded with arousal. “You have the mouth of the devil, you know that?” The blond answered by grinding himself against the other man’s lap. “ _Fuck!_ Stevie, _Jesus_ , where did you learn to do this?”

“I guessed.” Steve replied before kissing the angel’s wing again. He felt the hands move from his hips and push against his shoulders and he leaned back again. “What?”

“You’ve never done this before?” Those slate blue eyes were still blown, but there was a clarity to them now.

“No?”

Bucky rubbed his face with a sigh and mumbled, “Jesus Christ in Heaven.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, Stevie, okay. Just…take it easy on a fella. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

The blond’s smiled returned and he nuzzled against Bucky’s shoulder. “Too much for ya? Need me to take it easy on you?”

The angel groaned, this time not out of arousal. “You’re a pain. Just— _unh!_ ”

Steve wasn’t in the mood to wait for Bucky to tell him all the reasons he couldn’t do this because he was sick, and had leaned over to kiss a feather and grind down on his angel’s lap. It had the benefit of shutting the brunet up. “Just what, Buck?” He couldn’t help but tease the angel. It was too easy. When Bucky tried to speak, it was in the odd clicking language of the Seraphim. “English, Bucky.”

The brunet settled a little and took a breath, closing his eyes. “You’re killin’ me here, Stevie.”

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No, but it would be nice if you could not do that with our bond.” Bucky was still shaking and Steve could feel his heart beating rapidly. “Y-you keep—hnnn—flooding it with what you’re feeling. I-I can’t handle both you _and_ me right now.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t even realize he’d been doing anything with the bond, but now that he did, he poured more of his arousal into it, causing the brunet to gasp and writhe beneath him. “Are you holding back, or is it too much?”

“N-no, just, ah, just trying not to embarrass myself.” His fingers spasmed on his ward’s hips “Stevie, Steve, fuck! Ah, _unh_ , Jesus, stop!”

The blond immediately stopped, going so far as to remove his hands from his angel. He watched the angel’s expression go from almost pained to as calm as it could get in a matter of seconds, but then his hands were being held by a fierce grip. “Bucky?”

“Hold on.” Bucky’s eyes were glassy and unfocused and then his expression changed into one of triumph moments before Steve doubled over, gasping like he was dying.

It felt like he was, too, waves of pleasure crashing into his body, pummeling him into nothing and then building him up again. He tried to wrap his mind around what was happening but couldn’t string a coherent thought together. He groaned into his angel’s shoulder, panting hard and praying that his asthma wouldn’t be triggered. He jumped when Bucky’s spoke into his ear.

“This is what you do for me, Stevie. This is how you make me feel.” Bucky growled. “Tease.”

Steve managed to pull himself together a few moments later. “What the _hell_ was that?”

“ _That_ was what I felt from you when you fucked with the bond. Now, unless you want me to make a mess of my pants, _stop doing that!_ ” He nipped Steve’s ear. “I would much rather make a mess of you, if you don’t mind.”

The blond nodded and lifted his head from the man’s shoulder and met his gaze. “I can’t take off my clothes like this.”

“Neither can I, but it was your idea to jump me!” Bucky had a cocky smile on but released his ward’s hands anyway. “You’re free.”

Steve didn’t waste time and immediately got off of the angel’s lap and made short order of his clothes before turning back around in just his boxers. It was the first time he’d been in front of Bucky in this context, and he was a little embarrassed. One look at his angel was enough to make that insecurity vanish. Bucky was grinning like he’d just found a cold coin and he gestured for Steve to come back to his lap.

“God, Stevie, you’re like a pretty little present. The wrapping looks good, but what’s underneath is so much better.” He helped the blond adjust his position, making them both moan when their cocks brushed together through their shorts. “Can you kiss my feathers again?”

He chuckled and complied, finding one close to Bucky’s shoulders so he wouldn’t have to move far to get to it. The pin feather was covered with a thin, waxy coating that felt smooth under his lips, and he smiled against it when the wing shuddered. Steve flicked his gaze over to the angel’s face, enjoying how Bucky seemed to barely be able to keep his eyes open. “Like that?” He breathed against the wing.

“Uh-huh.” Bucky managed to focus on his ward. “I knew they were sensitive, but not like that.” He moved his hand to Steve’s face and caressed his cheek, features softening. “Kiss me, Steve.”

He realized that Bucky wasn’t talking about his wing anymore. He sat up, beaming, and brought his lips to his angel’s, gasping into his mouth at the electricity that flowed through him. Steve held onto Bucky’s shoulders tightly as he rolled his hips, lips not leaving the brunet’s. The bond thrummed between them and made the sensations more intense. He was aware of Bucky controlling the motion of his ward’s hips as he licked his way into the brunet’s mouth, but it was only in the back of his mind. What he cared about, what he needed the most, was the angel’s lips against his own, their breaths joining together as they devoured each other.

Steve felt himself moved, laid on his back on the couch, and moaned into his angel’s mouth. He could feel what Bucky was feeling, to a point, and it made him dizzy with lust. The brunet seemed to catch on and pulled Steve’s boxers down to wrap a hand around the blond’s cock. Steve’s breath hitched, panting hard and looking up, as the angel broke the kiss. “Bucky, Bucky _please_ , I need—“

“Shh, I’ve got you.” His angel kissed him tenderly, slowly working his tongue into Steve’s mouth as he kept stroking his dick. It was driving the blond mad. He voiced his need with a whine and Bucky smiled against his lips before pulling back again. “Tell me what you need.”

Steve shuddered beneath the brunet. “I need…I need to touch you.”

Bucky’s smiled widened. “Okay.” He removed his hand from the blond’s cock so he could lower his own shorts, but was back to caressing his ward before Steve could think to protest. “Better, doll?”

The blond smacked the brunet lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t call me ‘doll’, Buck. But, _ah_ , but yeah, _much_ better.” He looked at Bucky’s own swollen dick and held back a desperate moan. It looked so damn good, a few shades darker than Steve’s and with a curve to it that the blond _needed_ to touch sooner rather than later. He reached out to take the angel in his hand, but Bucky shook his head. “Buck?”

“I’m gonna make this so good for you, promise. But I need my hand back, okay?” The brunet waited until Steve nodded before he moved his hand. He then shifted up so he was hovering over his ward. “Stevie, God, I really want to rub myself off against your cock, but I need you to calm your breathing, please. Can you do that? For me?”

Steve realized his lungs were burning and he wasn’t able to catch his breath. He had a moment of panic before he felt his angel’s hand light on his chest. He nodded, watching Bucky’s chest move up and down, realizing the brunet had slowed his breathing so Steve could match it. He smiled despite the burning in his chest and watched the angel return it. When the burning subsided and his breathing was under control, he blushed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Bucky kissed him again. “I still think you’re perfect. Can you spread your legs?”

“If perfection is a ninety pound asthmatic, sure.” He kept the smile on his face to prove that he was just joking around. At Bucky’s request, he nodded.

The brunet’s breath caught in his throat and he bent down to nip at Steve’s collar bone. “Yeah, I think that’s the definition.” Bucky pressed his body down, hips lined up in just the right way to make Steve cry out when their dicks touched. His angel startled, eyes worried.

The blond shook his head. “I’m okay.” He moved his hands to spread along Bucky’s ribs. “Felt good.”

The angel chuckled breathily. “Sorry, used to—“ His gaze fell to the side. “—being careful.”

Steve knew what was going through Bucky’s head and brought a hand up to tilt his head up. “It’s okay, Buck. I understand. That being said, if you don’t do that again, I’m going to kick you.” He lifted himself up and kissed the brunet, taking his mind off the past. “Don’t think, please, please don’t think about anything but me and you. Right here, right now.”

Bucky’s moan was tinged with emotional pain, but he still moved against his ward, burying his head against the blond’s shoulder. Steve held onto his angel and tilted his head so the other man could hear what he was doing to his ward. The feel of Bucky’s cock against his own was intoxicating, driving both of them mad. The angel lifted his head and watched his ward unravel quickly. To Steve, it felt like…like…

…like flying.

Something happened to his mind. Steve felt a flash of raw power flood through him, his mind stuttering with the new information. There was a light to the left of him, warm and comforting. _The sun?_ Steve thought. He remembered the story of Icarus and didn’t go closer to the warmth. Instead, he followed that sensation of flying, soaring high above everything else. Nothing mattered but the wind in his face. Ahead of him was Bucky, laughing and soaring right with his ward. He turned to face the blond, but the image faded as a scream pierced through the image.

Suddenly, he was back in the apartment, but Bucky wasn’t on top of him anymore. Instead, he was crumpled on the floor, holding his ribs and taking deep, gulping breaths. Steve was up in a flash.

“What happened?!” He asked, reaching out to move his angel’s hand from his ribs, right where Steve’s hand had been before he felt like he was dreaming of flight. Beneath was an angry bruise, a purple splotch so dark it almost looked black. Steve touched it gently, and was abruptly shoved away.

“Don’t!” Bucky hissed, gasping. “Broken…just…just gimme a couple of seconds to heal.”

Steve’s eyes were wide. “D-did I do that?”

The angel let out a puff of laughter. “Yeah, didn’t realize you’d do that when you came.” A light appeared beneath his hand and he hissed again. “ _Fuck_ , that hurts!”

“What did I do?” He could only remember soaring above everything. Nothing about what _really_ happened came to his mind. “Bucky, I’m _so_ sorry!”

Bucky finally removed his hand from his ribs, bruise gone. “It’s okay, Stevie. You musta—hey, hey, no, it’s okay, don’t do that!”

Steve had covered his face, unable to even look at what he’d done. His voice cracked. “I’m _sorry!_ ” Steve felt himself gathered into his angel’s arms, heard the man shushing him and whispering small reassurances. A hand moved his own, and he met Bucky’s gaze.

“I’m alright, promise. You just knocked me down a little.” The angel was worried, he could tell, but still smiling. “Besides, when I fell over, it knocked some of the loose feathers out, so it was actually helpful! C’mon, Steve, it’s alright.”

“What—“

“I don’t know, pal. You came and something hit my ribs and three of them broke.” He shrugged. “Not a problem, you know I can heal myself pretty easily. Wish I know what you did though.”

“You don’t?” Steve’s head was swimming, both from his cold and whatever he’d experienced.

“Not a damned clue. Felt like something a wa—holy shit.” Bucky gaped at his ward. “Holy _shit!_ ”

The blond flinched. He had no idea where his angel was going with that train of thought. “What?”

“ _That_ was something a _warlock_ could do! But I thought you said you were a half-blood!”

“I _am_ a half-blood! No powers when I turned fifteen, no control over any elements, no urgings for dark magic. Half-bloods don’t get powers.” Steve almost wished he had. Would’ve saved him a lot of grief in fights.

Bucky started laughing. “Oh Jesus, what did I get myself into. Stevie, half-bloods can get powers if they’ve got warlock mixed with another race that can also use magic. They usually come into them later, and it’s triggered by a strong emotional event. What’s Sarah?”

That made sense. Some other races came into magic a lot later in life. “Human, or…she’s never said. I never asked.”

“We should ask her sometime soon. You alright?” The angel had moved them back to the couch, never letting go of his ward.

Steve nodded. “Are you?”

“I’m fine, promise.” He started laughing again, shaking his head. “Now I have to deal with you being stubborn _and_ having powers.”

“Very funny, wise guy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a little while to write because I got a full-time job that took a little time to adjust to. Now that we're good on that, I'll be writing a bit more often.
> 
> Thanks as always go out to [loveddearle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/loveddearle/) for being an awesome friend who is great at fixing stuff that I've screwed up/being the fresh set of eyes I need.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr!](http://findyouranchorpoint.tumblr.com/)

Bucky dodged another wayward fireball and sighed dramatically. His ward hadn't yet developed any control over his powers, but he was easy enough to goad into creating  _something_. Today it was fireballs, and it was keeping things...interesting. 

The angel smirked at Steve, who was bundled up against the late December weather, and tried to come up with something else to taunt him with.

“Is that the best you could do? No wonder all the bullies don’t care what you—whoa!” He barely furled his right wing in time to avoid the next fireball. “Okay, time out! I told you not to aim for the wings!”

“S-sorry”, Steve sputtered. He was shivering hard enough that Bucky could see it from where he was standing at the other end of the alley.

“It’s okay. Come on, I think that’s enough for one day.” The angel closed the distance between them in a few short strides and let the blond tuck himself under a wing. He was over the short-lived cold, but still chilled too easily for Bucky to let his guard down. When they got back inside the apartment, he immediately put on a kettle for tea and huddled by the old radiator in hopes of thawing the chill from his bones. It was only New Year’s Eve, but it was shaping up to be a nasty winter.

His ward came up behind him and waved a medium sized brown paper bag where Bucky would see it but stood far enough away that he was just out of reach. He probably didn't want Bucky grabbing the bag and ruining the surprise. 

The brunet raised an eyebrow. “Liam and Rebecca ambushed me the other day with three bags of these. Want to know what they are?” He asked with a smirk in his voice while he slowly swung the bag from side to side.

Of course. It seemed to be in his wards nature to be a tease in one way or another at all times. He turned towards the blond and shrugged, trying to seem uninterested. “Do I want to know?” Steve reached into the bag and pulled out a long, brightly painted cardboard tube, grinning like a madman. Bucky's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he gaped. “Jesus  _Christ_ , Becca trusted  _you_  with three bags of fireworks?!” 

Steve only grinned wider. “Of course she didn’t! Liam did,” he said with a chuckle, “but only because Becca said if she were the one to give them to me, you’d have her head on a spike.” She wasn't wrong, Bucky mused, but Steve was unfazed. He didn’t seem worried about Bucky ruining his fun.

“She wanted to remind you that we need to set these off from the roof, not our fire escape like last year.” Now it was Steve's turn to glare. “I can’t believe you sent her a letter about that, Buck!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of them acting like lunatics on the fire escape the year before. They’d miscalculated and wound up setting a window box of prize petunias on fire. Fortunately, the woman had forgiven them when they came by her apartment the next morning on Sarah’s orders, looking as guilty as they felt. 

Bucky shook the memory off, giving Steve a lopsided smile, “I had to tell her, it was too funny not to share! ‘Sides, you can’t tell me you didn’t laugh when she brought it up.”

Steve tried to hide his smile but gave in. “You caught me.” The grin spread across his face.

His ward turned, setting the bag down on their small table and hopped up onto the small kitchen counter. Bucky noticed that he didn’t kick his legs like he normally would and his posture was stiff. He knew he was going to have to address Steve's increased self-consciousness sooner rather than later but before he could think of anything soothing to say, Steve looked over and warned, “Watch your feathers near the radiator, you know that thing has a mind of its own.”

The angel snapped his wings tight against his back. They were thankfully no longer molting, thanks to the gentle care both he and his ward had put into the feathers new and old. It was probably the fastest molt he’d gone through in his entire life, including the time when he’d gotten struck by a warlock’s lightning powers. The memory made him shiver and he grinned up at Steve, “Please never electrocute me.” 

Steve cocked his head, eyes intent on Bucky’s. “You’re going to have to tell me that story.”

“The short version? There was a Warlock, lightning and feathers everywhere. It was very flattering. So like I said, please don’t electrocute me.” As he spoke, he took the few short steps from the radiator to the counter and placed a kiss on his ward’s cheek.

“Mm," Steve tapped his chin with one delicate finger as though he was considering the idea, "I’ll keep that in mind if you kiss me properly. C’mere.” The blonds blue eyes danced as he extended his arms and looped them around Bucky, pulling him closer.

Who was he to deny his ward? He submitted to the pull and gently kissed Steve. Bucky nipped his ward’s bottom lip and coaxed a moan out of him. He pulled back before things got too heated and they risked forgetting about the stove for the second time that day. He caught Steve's gaze, “That’s a promise for later..." And smiled, "Can you get the mugs?”

“Screw the mugs. Turn off the stove, I don't need tea to warm me when I've got you right here” Steve’s voice was low and his eyes were dark as he tugged Bucky closer. 

The angel carefully pried his ward’s arms off of him and shook his head. “Not yet, doll.” He fully expected the scowl and subsequent punch to his shoulder the nickname earned him.

“Don’t call me that!” His ward quipped back, eyebrows furrowing. Bucky thought his Stevie was gorgeous when he got all riled up like this. He got all flushed and his blue eyes grew stormy. Bucky couldn't hide his grin so he leaned in and kissed his ward’s neck. With the touch of his lips the blond let out a huff and immediately settled back down, allowing the angel to turn off the stove and prepare their tea.

While it was steeping, he joined Steve on the counter and wrapped his arm around him. “What do you want me to call you, hmm? I know you don’t like doll, cutie, or baby, so what does that leave me? Sweetie?” Steve's face contorted as he listed the pet names. “Cookie?” Bucky continued. That got Steve blushing and earned Bucky another punch.

“Naw, c’mon Buck, you know I don’t like any of those!" Steve pouted as he looked down at where his feet were dangling off the counter. "Make me feel smaller than I already am.” And now Steve’s blush deepened as his voice got a little quieter, “But, uh, sweetheart’s okay. I like when you call me ‘Stevie’ best," he finished shyly.

The angel beamed at his ward and held him close. “Okay, Stevie.”

His ward leaned back to kiss a feather. “You gonna keep your promise for later?” He asked, his tone now sly, but still hushed, having gotten over his embarrassment.

“’Course I am!” The angel stood up and walked over to the mugs, bringing both back with him and handing one to the blond. “First, drink. Then we can see what the hell my crazy sister entrusted you with.”

+

Bucky's sister was a damn genius. Crazy, but a genius. Seeing Steve’s eyes light up as they began their own little fireworks show was something else. Those gorgeous clear blue eyes shining brighter than the stars above them made Bucky’s stomach do flips. He lit another Roman candle for his ward and watched the blond point it skyward in awe. They’d done this last year with Steve’s mother, but launching fireworks just the two of them felt...different somehow. Granted, he narrowly missed several feathers getting singed, and would probably not get any sleep because they weren't the only ones enjoying their own private fireworks show in the neighborhood...not that he had any intention of getting sleep  _anyway_.

“Alright, enough of that type, Stevie. Didn’t Becca give you something else?”, Bucky asked, then watched his ward rummage in a paper sack for something specific and laugh in triumph as he pulled out what he was looking for out. “Yeah! Light that one." 

“You launch this one, Buck.” Steve stood close to the angel, handing him the red and white cardboard tube, and looked up at him with those eyes Bucky couldn't get enough of, just as people started shouting their wishes for a happy new year from nearby rooftops.

There was no helping the wide smile on Bucky's face as he wrapped his arms around his ward. “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he murmured into Steve's ear as he bent and kissed the blond, smiling against his lips as Steve parted them with a pleased sound. The angel licked into his ward’s mouth and groaned when Steve pressed his body more firmly against his own. The bond between them vibrated softly while he carefully lifted the other man up, hands gripping the backs of both legs, to get both of them inside where he could make good on his earlier promise.

It wasn’t the most graceful trip down the stairs and would likely have their neighbors gossiping amongst themselves for a few days, but they managed to get into their apartment without any new bruises. Bucky broke away from the kiss with a ragged gasp when he put Steve back down. They shed their coats, the angel looking into his ward’s half-lidded eyes and seeing nothing but love. He felt that love intertwine with the pure _desire_ Steve felt as it washed over the bond, all of the emotions just on the right side of overwhelming.

Steve made a desperate sound and Bucky could only smile as he kissed the blond again before he pinned him against the wall with a growl. “Want me to take off your clothes, Stevie?” He licked his lips as his ward rolled his eyes. “God, sweetheart, you look like a hundred bucks.”

“Bet I’d look better if you actually took my clothes off sometime today.” Steve commented dryly.

Bucky chuckled and slipped his calloused fingers under the straps of Steve’s suspenders, slowly drawing them down, fingers skating along the smaller man’s arms, until the straps fell loose at the blond’s sides. He took his time unbuttoning the man’s tan shirt and teased the blond with every light brush of his fingers. Steve was trembling, hands pressing hard against the wall behind him, breaths coming in harsh gasps. Bucky pulled the shirt off, revealing one of his old white undershirts. He drew it out from where it was tucked into Steve’s pants, making sure his fingers slid across the pale skin beneath as he lifted it up and over his ward’s head, tousling his straw-colored hair. His ward was panting harder, every breath making the moonlight glimmer as it reflected off of the sheen of sweat on his skin.

His ward keened in the back of his throat, the muffled sounds stoking the fire of their bond. It grew with every gentle touch Bucky bestowed upon Steve, until both of them were shaking hard.

“God, Buck, please!” Steve pleaded with a whine and a sharp breath.

“Shh, Stevie, I’ve got you.” Bucky soothed. The angel tilted his wing to enable his ward to stroke his feathers, knowing that would ground him, and was a little shocked when he saw Steve’s dick visibly twitch against his pants. Bucky raised an eyebrow and brought his gaze back to the blond’s face. The blush that spread along Steve’s cheekbones made the angel’s stomach do a flip. “You really do love them, don’t you?” He all but growled.

His ward nodded hastily, hand between layers of feathers and making the angel moan with every gentle movement. “You’ve got no idea.” Steve replied breathlessly.

“Hmm, I have one idea.” Bucky smirked and played with the waistband of Steve’s pants. The blond’s trousers were resting low on his hips with the suspenders no longer holding them up. The angel dropped to his knees in front of the Steve, bringing the trousers down with him. His ward’s cock was pushing against the fabric of his plain white boxers, precum dampening the front of them. Bucky couldn’t help but lick his lips as he looked up at the flush painting his ward’s chest and neck, finally making eye contact and asking, “Like what you see, sweetheart?"

“I swear to God, Buck, if you don’t—ah!” Steve’s breath caught and his head hit the wall with a soft _thunk_ as Buck pulled his cock out and licked from the base to the tip.

“If I don’t what?” The angel smirked up at the blond, who managed to glare down at him. The brunet chuckled and licked the tip of Steve’s cock again, eyes fluttering. “You taste so damned good, Stevie.”

The blond groaned and moved the hand still pressed against the wall to the back of his angel’s head, carding through the soft, short hair. The hand between Bucky’s feathers twitched and accidentally flicked the quill of a feather, causing the angel to gasp before taking his ward into his mouth. The few times they’d done this, he’d loved the way Steve’s dick throbbed against his tongue, especially when he’d been teased for as long as he had that evening.

“Bucky…” His ward whispered on a shaky breath as his fingers trembled against his feathers.

The angel smirked around his mouthful and sucked gently, enough to coax more of those soft, throaty sounds from Steve. He shifted his gaze up to watch the blond react. The view was just as stunning as he thought it would be, Steve’s head thrown back to expose his long neck. If Bucky were teasing with his hands, now would be the time for him to mark that pale expanse of skin and claim Steve in the most primal of ways possible. At that thought, he felt his own cock throb from the confines of his trousers and couldn’t help the moan that escaped.

The muffled sound made Steve lower his gaze and take note of the position the angel was in. Bucky loved when he was watched and rose to the occasion, lifting his broad hands to the blond’s smaller hips and pressing them hard against the wall as he set to work. He sucked harder and began to bob his head in an effort to take more of his ward down with each swallow.

“Ah! Buck, nnn!” His efforts were rewarded as Steve’s hand clenched in the feathers, bending a few quills in the process. The brunet winced but kept going. His ward soothed the feathers and mumbled what started as an apology but ended as a groan when Bucky flicked his tongue against the underside of Steve’s cock.

He would forgive Steve for far more than a momentary pain. He would give him every feather from his wings—hell, both of the wings in their entirety—if it meant that his ward would be safe and happy. In that moment, Bucky realized he would do anything his ward commanded if it would make the blond happy. He shifted his wing to relieve the twinge from the awkward position and felt Steve’s cock give a desperate twitch to match the choked sound coming from his mouth.

The angel pulled back with a wet sound and looked up at Steve curiously. He wondered…the corners of his lips pulled up as he moved his wing again, feathers brushing directly against the blond’s length. Steve moaned desperately, eyes shit tightly and pushed against Bucky’s grip on his hips to start rubbing against the feathers. The brunet’s smirk turned into a bright grin as his wild guess was proven correct. “Stevie, sweetheart…” He husked, barely above a whisper. 

Steve opened his eye, brow still furrowed, and looked down, showing Bucky something deep inside his soul, something _feral_ that reminded the angel of bright lights and deep voices and raw _power_. His head fell back to the wall as he began rubbing against the golden feathers faster, seeking out that intoxicating pleasure. As Bucky watched, he couldn’t hold out any longer. He groaned through gritted teeth as he palmed his own erection through his trousers.

They both sank into the bond, moans and gasps quieting as they found that solace within each other’s souls. Bucky knew Steve couldn’t feel to the full extent that he could, but it was enough to know that he could feel a fraction of the pure want and need and _love_ that the angel felt for his ward. The brunet let all of it flow through the bond, and was just as surprised as his ward when the blond choked on a shuddered gasp and coated Bucky’s golden feathers with streaks of white.

Steve slid down the wall, panting with his efforts, as Bucky turned to look at the piece of art on his feathers. Just the sight of it made his cock ache painfully, leaking through the fabric of his pants. He was so close, it would only take a couple more minutes, but then… _then_ his ward, his Stevie, leaned forward and _licked_ his feathers clean.

Bucky came so hard in that exact moment that his vision blacked out and he slumped against the blond, shaking violently with the intensity of his orgasm. He gasped against his ward’s shoulder, shivering when his vision came back a few seconds later. “Stevie…” He rasped, awe bleeding into his words.

His ward was grinning widely, completely pleased with himself. “Yeah?" 

“Punk.” Bucky quipped, hiding his own smile against Steve’s bare shoulder, enjoying the afterglow.

“Jerk.” Bucky could hear the laughter in Steve’s voice, and smacked him lightly.

“I love you, Stevie.” He nuzzled against the blond, muscles lax.

“I love you too, Buck.”

Underneath their words was the easy declaration that made their bond sing. _Til the end of the line. I’m yours. I always will be_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD, I am so sorry for taking forever to update. I've been working full-time and also have been taking grad school courses to get my Masters of Education. I'll try to update more often, but no guarantees.
> 
> For your mental well-being, this is a fairly emotional chapter, so if you're not in a good place for that, I won't be insulted if you don't read it until you're in a better place. 
> 
> As usual, you can find me on [tumblr](https://findyouranchorpoint.tumblr.com)!

Bucky knew where the look on his ward’s face was going and braced himself. He really didn’t want to go out in the cold—it was a _blizzard_ , for Heaven’s sake—and he especially didn’t want his ward going out in it. He sent a silent prayer for warmth and comfort for the day a moment before Steve opened his mouth.

“We should stop by Ma’s place.” The blond said the words into his mug, no doubt completely aware of what his angel’s response would be.

_Damn._ “We’ll go after the storm blows out, Stevie.” He could feel the anxiety from Steve flow through their bond. “ _Steve._ ”

His ward kept his gaze steady. “It’s just…she hasn’t stopped by like she said she would. She _promised_ , and Ma never broke a promise in her life. Blizzard or no.”

Bucky knew he was beat. He could probably put up a fight if he wanted, but his ward was right. Sarah never broke a promise, especially not one made to her son. The angel would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned. “Bundle up good and tight. I swear, if I see a shred of skin, we’re marching right back here!”

Steve sprang off the couch fast enough to impress even the angel. The brunet folded the blanket that had been covering his ward and moved to put on his own coat—new, courtesy of Rebecca, who had found a new design to fit over wings better than his old one. He was still stomping into his boots when his ward came out, doing his best impression of a fluffed up cat.

Bucky snorted. “Can you bend to put on shoes, or do you need me to help you?”

Steve glared as best he could and muttered something beneath his scarf as he wriggled into his own boots, not even bothering to untie them. They didn’t waste any more time leaving and waded their way into the storm.

By the time they made it to Sarah’s apartment, the angel thought he would make an attractive ice sculpture if he stopped moving long enough, and Steve was going blue around the edges. The blond made a motion as if he meant to remove his hands from his pockets to knock, but instead, turned and kicked the door with his heel. Both men heard nothing from inside, even after Steve kicked again.

At the fourth time, the door next to Bucky whipped open, and an elderly man snarled at them.

“Stop makin’ a ruckus, lads! You tryin’ ta break in or somethin’ of the like?”

_Gremlin_ , Bucky thought. He cleared his throat. “No, sir, we’re looking for Mrs. Rogers. She at work?”

The gremlin’s expression softened. “Ah, you’d be her lads, then. Sorry ta be the bearer of bad news, but Mrs. Rogers was taken to the ward the other day. Jus’ after the holiday.”

Bucky couldn’t comprehend the meaning right away, but Steve made an anguished noise that snapped the angel into reality. The _tuberculosis_ ward. _Oh God, no._ He felt the bond shake with his ward’s devastation and managed to grit out a thank you to the gremlin before herding his ward away from the apartment.

“Stevie?”

“She’s gonna shake it, Buck. She’s gotta.” Steve’s voice was quiet.

“She will, sweetheart, she will.” Bucky could see the tears freezing onto his ward’s cheeks and wrapped a wing around him. “Let’s go home.”

+ 

Steve hadn’t spoken to anyone—not even Bucky—in two weeks. He couldn’t trust his voice to remain steady long enough to voice any concerns, so he figured it was best to remain quiet. He had written a letter to his mother as soon as they had returned to the apartment, but there had been no word in return. He sighed and put down his pencil. Nothing had inspired his art in those two weeks, either.

The blond felt the couch dip down next to him and let himself lean on his angel. Bucky had asked him to talk for the first few days, but learned quickly to not push his ward. Steve was appreciative of their bond more than ever.

Bucky cleared his throat. “I, uh, asked at the docks if I could get my pay a little early. We gotta get outta this place, Stevie, if only for a little bit. I don’t know what you feel like doing—hell, you probably don’t feel like doing anything—but we could just walk around and figure something out. Maybe go to one of those art places you like. It could be inspiring to you and maybe you’d be able to put something in that book of yours. Sound like something you could do?”

Steve thought about it for a long while. He _did_ like galleries, even if his angel found them boring. It said a lot about how much Bucky wanted him out and about if he was offering to take him out like that. He liked the idea of being able to draw something again, and that’s what got him speaking for the first time. “Sure thing, Buck.”

The brunet didn’t startle at his rough voice, bless him. He just smiled down at his ward and kissed the top of his head. “Okay. Let’s get our coats and boots and we can head out. It’s still really cold out, so please remember layers!”

Steve sat up and watched Bucky practically skip through their flat, and felt something close to a smile on his lips. He even managed to stand and get his boots on without feeling as weighed down. Maybe it was a sign of better things to come. Maybe the worst was over. The thought of seeing his mother happy and healthy and _home_ made the hint of a smile turn into a full grin.

He had so many questions to ask her when she got back. There was just too much about himself that he didn’t know yet, and he needed information. He walked into the bedroom and brushed his fingertips across Bucky’s spine and wing joints, enjoying the way the brief contact made his angel shudder and their bond tremble with soft pleasure. Steve gave a little snort at Bucky’s preening as he shrugged into a warm sweater and his coat.

“Ready, sweetheart?” The angel asked, buttoning his own coat.

“Yeah. Hey, Buck?” Steve met Bucky’s eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Bucky smiled and wrapped a wing around the blond. “You’re welcome.”

They made their way out of their flat and onto the street, hands held tightly and smiles on their faces. Steve didn’t speak much, still, but the silence was lighter than it had been before. Bucky kept the silence, save for an occasional comment about someone walking by, and Steve felt something close to happy. 

The good mood that settled over them broke when they ran into a nurse that worked with Sarah in the hospital. She was a human through and through, but knew her medicine better than most of the Virtues. She was also a woman who had spent most of her shifts with Steve when he had been hospitalized, and he trusted her with his life. So, when she mentioned with sad eyes that she was praying as hard as she could but there was no improvement, Steve cursed his false hope with words that seared through his bond with Bucky and made even the brunet’s eyes bulge out. Bucky thanked the woman for her information and herded his ward into a small alleyway.

“Steve, it doesn’t mean anything. No improvement, sure. But she didn’t get worse, right? That’s good!” He seemed to feel his ward shutting down even more than before and hugged him close. “I know waiting to see is hard. I _know_.”

Steve pushed away from the angel and began walking down the street without him. The blond could feel that the action hurt Bucky, but reassurance flooded their bond, so Steve knew that would be okay at least. Bucky closed the gap between them and kept the silence until they reached the gallery.

It didn’t go the way Bucky had intended _at all_.

+

Bucky closed the door behind them and tried to not be disappointed with how his plan had failed miserably. Steve hadn’t even paused in front of _one_ painting at the gallery, even the one Bucky’s untrained eye thought was a masterpiece. Instead, he walked around aimlessly, looking mostly at his feet. The bond had protested the sadness, burning the angel’s connection slightly. He looked over at his ward, who was puttering about in the kitchen, and took in his posture.

“Stevie?” He asked as he hung their coats. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Steve shook his head and Bucky caught the light reflecting off a tear rolling down the blond’s cheek. “I-I can’t.”

The angel walked over slowly and placed a hand on his ward’s shoulder. That small comfort was all it took for the floodgates to open, and suddenly he had an armful of Steve. The blond buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder, sobs racking his small body. Bucky cradled Steve and whispered small reassurances while allowing the blond to finally let his emotion show.

They were like that for several minutes before the brunet felt a burning sensation thread its way through the bond and settle in his lungs. Bucky pushed Steve away from his shoulder and watched him carefully.

“Sweetheart, Stevie, can you settle your breathing down for me?” The blond shook his head, each breath punctuated by a sharp wheezing sound. Steve’s eyes widened as his airway struggled to stay open. Those blue eyes flicked up to Bucky’s when panic flooded both ends of the bond. Bucky cursed as the wheezes turned into choked coughs, and the angel moved into action.

He moved them both to the floor by the radiator, flipping Steve over to lay against his chest so he could try and mimic the angel’s breathing. Unfortunately, the smaller man couldn’t seem to manage it, the attack coming hard and fast. It was powerful enough that it made the angel’s lungs and ribs hurt. Bucky pressed a hand against Steve’s chest, pushing what limited healing power he had into his ward’s body. The blond made a harsh gesture that accompanied a choking sound that wasn’t accompanied by a cough. Bucky drew his attention to Steve’s face and realized the man’s lips were going blue.

“Shit, Stevie, hang on!” He moved from under the blond and leaned him against the wall before rushing to the bathroom, where all of Steve’s medicines were. At the top of a pile was a nasty looking syringe and a glass vial. He grabbed both and ran back out to his ward.

“Hang on, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” The angel’s hands shook as he filled the glass syringe with the adrenaline, but he had them back under control when he pushed the needle into Steve’s arm, watching the fluid level drop. When the dose was out of the syringe, Bucky gently removed the needle from his ward and all but threw the damn thing across the room. There was a bit of blood coursing down Steve’s arm from the injection, but he healed that with minimal effort. He then rocked back on his heels, watching the blond closely. Every few seconds, he would lightly shake his ward, who would barely open his eyes before slipping back in and out of consciousness.

Finally, the short gasps shifted into wet coughs and Bucky let out a whimper, knowing that they were a sign the medicine was working. The noise made Steve blink and slowly move his gaze to where the angel was kneeling, shaking like a leaf.

Bucky didn’t realize until he spoke that he’d been crying. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The blond’s voice was raw from the attack and the subsequent coughs. He closed his eyes again and coughed some more before speaking, wincing as the adrenaline caused muscles to spasm. “Ow.”

The angel laughed and gathered his ward into his arms, kissing his forehead. That was the worst attack his ward had had in several years, and the longest. “Scared the shit outta me, Stevie.”

The blond huffed out what Bucky assumed was supposed to be a laugh, continuing to shake badly, the adrenaline making its way through the frail body. “You stabbed me with a needle.” He paused to take a few more deep breaths. “I think that counts as payback.”

“Damned straight it does.” He stood up gracefully, still cradling Steve in his arms. “Let’s get you to bed to rest.” The angel knew he’d need it, especially when the adrenaline wore off and left Steve with a nasty headache on top of all the raw emotion from the day.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s eyes were full of guilt.

“Aw, don’t do that. Makes me thing you didn’t do it on purpose to get me to wait on you hand and foot all night.” Bucky was joking, but he nodded anyway to accept Steve’s apology. The blond sighed and let himself be carried without a fuss. He carefully undressed his ward before sliding into bed with him. “Get some rest, sweetheart. Tomorrow’ll be a better day, you’ll see.”

Bucky prayed his words were true as he watched the blond gradually fall asleep, twitching with continuing muscle spasms before finally settling down. He watched his ward sleep for several hours before finally succumbing to it as well.

+ 

In the morning, Bucky woke up to a knock on the door and carefully extricated himself from Steve’s sleeping form to see who wanted what from them. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the nurse from last night. He took in her tear-streaked face and felt the blood drain from his face.

The woman shook her head. “I’m so sorry, James.” It was all he could do to keep himself from closing the door and blocking the world out for another few hours. This, though, was something that would remain no matter what.

Sarah Rogers had died.


End file.
